


falling.

by Idnis



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Artist AU, Artists, College, M/M, Photography, and a lot of metaphors, artist Neil, because they always talk in riddles, photographer Andrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idnis/pseuds/Idnis
Summary: The sun was bearing down on the park, on Andrew, on Neil Josten’s sketch, his auburn hair and blue, blue, blue eyes.After a dozen tries, Andrew clicked through his photos. All the way to the first one. The one where Neil was staring straight at the camera.Andrew’s breath caught.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> So I decided to expand on the prompt I did a while back! I loved a lot of the aus I tried out, but of course the one I said "this will never work for them" is the one I end up writing so much for. Ha. Life.
> 
> This fic is beta'd by the wonderful [ClockworkDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkDragon) ♡♡
> 
> Enjoy!

Adjust the frame.  
Get some fucking people in your photos.  
Yeah, yeah.  
  
Andrew didn’t particularly like photographing people.  
They were boring and predictable and generally tried too hard whenever he asked them if he could take a picture.  
They were all smiles and best angles and fake, fake, fake.  
  
Boring.  
  
But then his teacher had had enough, and forced him to _‘get some fucking people in your photos.’_  
Or else he’d fail the class.  
  
But Andrew’s eyes were always drawn to tall buildings.  
  
He wanted to photograph the possibility of falling, the height that could kill you, the horrible feeling of weightlessness.  
  
Walking around the park, the sun bore down on him as he tried to find some people, some inspiration, anything that would mean barely passing this assignment so he could go back to trying to photograph _falling_.  
  
And then Andrew saw it.  
  
A statue of a person, but barely filled in, just the iron outlines of what was supposed to be a human.  
  
Andrew took a few steps back. Crouched down and looked at his camera screen so he could position himself a little better, so he could get a photo of a person.  
  
No one said it was supposed to be a _real_ person.  
  
Peering at the screen, Andrew took a test-shot then held his camera up to check if it was good.  
  
It wasn’t.  
  
Because through the outlines, you could see a guy sitting cross-legged on the ground. He was looking up.  
  
Andrew zoomed in.  
  
Looking straight at the camera.  
  
There was no smile on his face.  
The guy just stared at Andrew, via the camera, like he was daring him to take a picture.  
  
Andrew didn’t like the part that followed.  
  
He stood up and walked over to the guy, who’d turned his attention back to the sketchbook on his knees.  
  
‘I need you to leave,’ Andrew said.  
  
The guy put down a few more lines on his paper, his pencil scratching, before looking up at him with an unimpressed expression on his face.  
  
‘Why?’  
  
‘I’m going to take a photo of the statue. You’re in the shot.’  
  
‘So? I’m sketching the statue.’  
  
Andrew looked down at the sketchbook.  
The bare outlines of a person were pressed onto the paper.  
The statue.  
  
‘Are you done?’ Andrew asked.  
  
The other pointed at his sketch. ‘Obviously not. Are _you_ done?’  
  
‘No,’ Andrew said, tired of playing civil. ‘Get out of my shot.’  
  
The guy pressed the end of his pencil against his chin, like he was thinking, but his blue eyes were staring straight at Andrew, still unimpressed as he replied, ‘You’re blocking my sun.’  
  
Oh, so it was his sun now?  
  
For a second or two, Andrew considered the option to just leave.  
Let the guy burn in his sun.  
But the chance of fucking his teacher over with this stupid assignment was too good not to take.  
  
‘Fine,’ Andrew said. ‘Then I need your consent.’  
  
The unimpressed stare changed into surprise. ‘Consent for what?’  
  
Andrew wanted to throw his camera at the guy’s face.  
Instead he said, ‘To take a photo of you.’  
  
‘Nobody’s ever taken a photo of me.’  
  
The words were blurted out, and probably a little too telling, judging by the irritation that showed in blue eyes.  
  
Andrew didn’t like that he kept noticing how _blue_ they were.  
  
‘Sure,’ the guy said, having recovered from whatever internal conflict he was having. ‘You have my consent to get out of my sun and take some pictures of me. Do I need to sign somewhere?’  
  
Passive aggressiveness aside, that actually wasn’t a bad idea  
  
Andrew nodded.  
  
The guy ripped out a piece of paper from his sketchbook, and scribbled something on it before handing it to Andrew.  
  
Andrew noticed scars on the back of his hand, before taking the paper and walking back to the statue.  
  
He unfolded the paper.  
  
_I give permission to be photographed._  
  
Underneath the words was a scrawl. Andrew could make out the words _Neil Josten_ , before immediately squashing the information before it was too late.  
  
It was too late.  
  
As Andrew crouched down again, his knee touching the warm gravel, and started establishing his shot, Neil Josten’s blue eyes pierced straight through the lens into his own.  
  
The urge to look up was too big,  
so Andrew didn’t  
and took the shot.  
  
Neil Josten didn’t pose at all.  
  
Just like the first photo, his eyes were staring at the camera.  
Kind of unimpressed, sort of daring.  
Andrew was not impressed.  
  
But he was interested.  
What the fuck.  
  
Neil Josten looked down at his sketchbook again, continued drawing the outline of a person, so Andrew focused on getting a good shot.  
  
His first photos were wide, the entire statue clear and center.  
In other words, boring.  
Andrew didn’t feel the little thrill, the breath-catching feeling when he took a photo and knew it was close to _falling_.  
  
He tried different angles.  
Left, right, titled, upside down.  
  
It didn’t feel right.  
  
Meanwhile, the sun was bearing down on the park, on Andrew,  
on Neil Josten’s sketch,  
Neil Josten’s auburn hair  
and his blue, blue, _blue_ eyes.  
  
After a dozen tries, Andrew clicked through his photos. All the way to the first one.  
The one where Neil was staring straight at the camera.  
  
Andrew’s breath caught.  
  
The blue was sucking him in, was making him _watch_ , was forcing him to pay attention because those eyes said that Neil Josten wasn’t boring.  
  
Irritation made Andrew hold up his camera again. Made him zoom in, until the barest outline of a person was framing the shot  
and Neil Josten, hand flying over the paper as he was sketching, was clear and center.  
  
Fuck this, Andrew thought, and took a photo.  
  
And another.  
  
And then Neil looked up. Stared at the lens, the camera, at Andrew’s attitude.  
Like he was saying _fuck you_.  
  
Breath catching, Andrew took the photo.  
  
When he lowered the camera, Neil Josten was still watching him.  
  
Andrew stood up and made his way over.  
  
‘Do you want the photo?’ he asked.  
  
He saw Neil casually put his arm over the sketch.  
Oh yeah, now he was curious, now he wanted to see.  
  
‘Why would I need a photo of myself?’ Neil said skeptically.  
  
‘How should I know? Do you want it or not?’  
  
For the first time in the short while that he’d seen Neil, those blue eyes broke eye contact, and looked down at the ground in thought.  
  
After a few moments, the answer.  
  
‘Yeah. Sure.’  
  
The words lacked their initial fight, and Andrew wondered if the self hatred explained Neil’s lack of posing and/or smiling.  
  
Taking the piece of paper out of his pocket, Andrew handed it to Neil, who looked at it in confusion.  
  
‘Give me your number or email,’ Andrew said. ‘I’ll send it to you.’  
  
‘I don’t have a phone,’ Neil replied, taking the paper from him and lifting his arm off the sketch.  
  
Andrew looked.  
  
Between the outline of a person  
was another person, crouched down, staring at his camera.  
  
Neil noticed his stare.  
  
‘You were in my shot,’ he said.  
  
‘You were in mine,’ Andrew replied.  
  
Neil handed the piece of paper back.  
The email address was from Andrew’s university.  
  
‘You going to use the picture for something?’ Neil asked.  
  
‘Just class.’  
  
Something seemed to deflate inside Neil.  
It was i- not boring.  
  
The words were out of Andrew’s mouth before he could stop them.  
  
‘What about your sketch?’  
  
Neil looked down at it for a moment.  
  
‘Well, if you get out of my sunlight, I can finish it and submit it to an exhibition.’  
  
Andrew stared at those daringly blue eyes.  
  
Okay, fuck, he was interesting.  
  
Without so much as a goodbye, Andrew walked away from Neil Josten and his unimpressed behaviour, his fucking nerve to claim the sun, and his blue, blue, blue eyes.  
  
When he was behind his laptop, he took one look at the photo, breath catching, and sent it without editing.  
  
He titled it _falling.  
  
_ x  
  
‘What? No way, you’re shitting me,’ Nicky said, staring at the photo Andrew had taken. ‘They must’ve messed up the names. You _never_ photograph people.’  
  
Andrew didn’t like the word _never_.  
  
‘You can read, can’t you?’ he said.  
  
Nicky peered closely at the little card underneath the photo, with Andrew’s name and the title of the photograph on it.  
  
_Falling_.  
  
‘Wow,’ Nicky breathed. ‘Did you just call it- Does this mean what I think it does? ‘Cause, again, _no way_.’  
  
Then, using his terrible fucking timing like a skill, Kevin walked over and looked at what had made Nicky look so shocked.  
  
There was a silence, a silence where Andrew could almost hear his reputation falling, before Kevin frowned and said, ‘I don’t get it. Why’s it called _falling_?’  
  
As expected from the man who called his painting of a square ‘ _square’_.  
  
Nicky shook his head in exasperation before turning back to Andrew.  
It looked like he had to tear his eyes away from the photo.  
Like he had to tear his eyes away from Neil Josten.  
  
Unfortunately, Andrew knew the feeling.  
  
‘Do _you_ know why you titled it falling?’ Nicky asked.  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
‘So… Are you going to share it with us?’  
  
Andrew didn’t even need to think about this answer.  
  
‘No.’  
  
‘That’s a shame,’ his teacher said, appearing behind them. ‘I think this is the first time you’ve actually captured the concept of falling. It has real _feeling_ to it.’  
  
Andrew held up a finger and pointed it threateningly at the teacher’s face.  
A warning not to use the fucking f-word again. A warning his teacher didn’t get, because he peered closer at the painting.  
  
‘God, his eyes really make you _look_ , don’t they?’  
  
Yes.  
  
The teacher hummed. ‘Makes you wonder what he’s thinking about.’  
  
_You’re in my shot_.  
Probably.  
  
‘You should submit it to the exhibition.’  
  
‘Oooh, yeah! You should!’ Nicky exclaimed.  
  
The exhibition.  
Was that what would be at the end of the fall?  
A shitty exhibition.  
  
‘I have to think about it,’ Andrew said.  
  
He turned away from them  
and the blue, blue, blue eyes of Neil Josten.  
  
x  
  
‘Why?’ Nicky asked two days later.  
  
Reluctantly, Andrew looked up from his laptop. Closed the file containing photos of the barest outline of a person. Photos he hadn’t been looking at.  
  
But the _thought_ of looking had been so fucking tempting.  
  
‘Why do you need to think about it?’ Nicky repeated. ‘Why not send it in? What’s the worst that could happen?’  
  
His name.  
Beneath the photo.  
Falling.  
Off his tongue.  
  
Nicky wiggled his eyebrows at him. ‘You could get famous.’  
  
‘I don’t photograph for fame or money,’ Andrew answered boredly.  
  
‘Yeah, yeah. You only want to capture the concept of falling. I just don’t get what’s so special about photographing something you’re afraid of.’

Andrew said nothing.  
No use explaining.  
  
‘Unless you’re afraid of getting your work out there?’ Nicky guessed. Wrong. ‘I mean, _you_ don’t have to attend.’  
  
Nicky’s words were boring.  
Going would be boring.  
But the thought of looking wasn’t.  
  
So Andrew let his eyes fall  
back to the screen, to the photos of Neil Josten, sketching, looking up at him, squinting because of his fucking sun.  
  
So fucking interesting  
  
Fine.  
  
Without telling Nicky, Andrew opened his email and agreed to join the exhibition.  
  
x  
  
It wasn’t that Nicky couldn’t know.  
He’d know soon enough, because his cousin always visited these exhibitions. Mainly because his boyfriend was a huge fan.  
  
It wasn’t that Andrew wanted to go.  
He just had to see.  
  
Wandering through people who were drinking champagne that was too cheap to be good  
and eating food that was too small for human hands,  
Andrew let his eyes flicker past all the mediocre and pretentious art.  
  
So boring.  
  
He barely even blinked at the fourth canvas filled with paint splatters.  
Kevin had tried that once. He’d called it ‘ _paint splatters’_ .  
  
At least he’d been honest.  
  
Andrew wandered closer to the pencil sketches,  
and there he saw it.  
  
Instantly, his eyes focused on the statue’s outline, and himself in between and beyond. Staring down at his camera.  
  
‘You’re in front of my art,’ someone said behind him.  
  
Turning around, Andrew stared blankly at Neil Josten.  
  
‘So it’s art?’  
  
‘You don’t think sketches are art?’  
  
‘They’re hesitant,’ Andrew replied. ‘Fleeting. They can be erased with a few quick movements.’  
  
Neil Josten’s blue eyes watched him, _pierced_ through him, making Andrew catch his breath.  
Which was irritating.  
  
‘Everything can be erased with a few quick movements,’ Neil Josten replied.  
  
Interesting.  
Andrew immediately wondered what method for erasure Neil would use. What method he was most likely talking about.  
  
As he stared Neil down,  
Andrew twirled the thought around in his mind like a knife between his fingers.  
  
‘Fair enough,’ he said eventually, slowly.  
  
‘So that’s why you take pictures?’ Neil asked. ‘Because it’s less fleeting? Less hesitant?’

No, Andrew couldn’t draw for shit.  
No, because paint and pencils were _touching_ .  
  
Fuck, Neil’s eyes were _touching_ as they watched Andrew intensely, waiting for his answer.  
Why did it matter?  
Why did it fucking matter, _Neil Josten_ ?  
  
‘I try to photograph the possibility of falling,’ he said. ‘The height that could kill you. The feeling of weightlessness.’  
  
‘You don’t sound like you enjoy it.’  
  
‘I don’t.’  
  
‘You’re scared of heights?’  
  
‘Falling,’ Andrew corrected him.  
  
Neil tilted his head to the side,  
observing Andrew.  
  
‘So you’re scared of dying.’  
  
Andrew shot him a bored look  
and turned back to the sketchy excuse for art.  
With himself in it.  
  
He didn’t need Neil analyzing him.  
  
Though it seemed like that was what Neil Josten did best.  
Analyzing others.  
Drawing attention away from himself.  
  
Was that why Andrew was looking at the camera  
and not at him?  
  
Interesting.  
Fuck.  
  
‘You never sent me the photo,’ Neil said accusingly.  
  
Because of his name.  
His email address.  
Though he could’ve used Kevin’s. Or Nicky’s.  
  
But they both asked asked asked.  
  
‘It’s here,’ Andrew answered, waving a hand around, betting that Neil’s attention was still on him, even though he was standing with his back to him.  
  
‘Let’s go then,’ Neil said. ‘I’d rather block _your_ shit than mine.’  
  
Andrew turned back.   
  
‘I thought it was art?’  
  
‘No, I think it’s your coping mechanism.’  
  
Neil’s eyes were staring defiantly at Andrew.  
  
‘You want to get the feeling of falling in your shot so you can own it.’  
  
Andrew’s breath caught.  
It was a painful feeling.  
  
So he walked towards his photo, not caring if Neil followed or not.  
  
But he did.  
  
x  
  
There was a silence from Neil, a silence that felt so fucking heavy, Andrew almost contemplated downing the awful champagne. Just so he could replace the silence with a burning in his throat.  
  
It was pretty clear why nobody had taken a picture of Neil Josten.  
Not if he reacted like this.  
  
‘That’s me,’ Neil said quietly. Swallowing.  
  
Andrew stared at his face.  
But he didn’t have to search for the cracks.  
Neil was like a statue that had fallen down.  
  
Broken.  
  
And yet.  
And still.  
  
‘Not used to people seeing you?’ Andrew said.  
  
Neil’s eyes fell on the information printed next to the photo.  
  
‘Falling?’  
  
Andrew looked away before Neil could look at him. Staring at the empty wall beside the photo, the thought of looking was so fucking tempting.  
  
And then.  
  
‘Andrew,’ Neil Josten said. His name. Like he’d earned the right to call him that. ‘Why’d you title it falling?’  
  
Andrew didn’t lie.  
So instead, he gave another truth.  
  
‘Because you’re falling apart.’  
  
Neil sucked in a breath.  
  
It was the opposite of Andrew’s reaction.  
While he _lost_ his,  
Neil fought to get back his air.  
  
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Neil said eventually.  
  
Andrew nearly laughed.  
Except he didn’t.  
  
‘Sketches are better,’ Neil continued. Oh, so they were ignoring the statement now? Boring. ‘Nothing is permanent anyway, so it’s naive to try to capture something. To want to have it forever.’  
  
‘Nobody said anything about wanting,’ Andrew replied boredly.  
  
‘Even so. Sketches are more real, because they’re just as fleeting as our everyday.’  
  
Again, the words were too telling.  
Like a broken vase, the emotions were leaking out of Neil’s blue blue _blue_ eyes.  
It was disgusting.  
That Andrew kept looking.  
  
His hands itched for his camera.  
  
‘For something that’s fleeting, drawing takes a fucking long time,’ he said.  
  
Neil huffed, and turned to look at Andrew.  
  
An annoying thought filled Andrew’s mind.  
His phone could take pictures too.

‘I didn’t think you’d go for easy,’ Neil said. Fucking daring Andrew to not be boring.  
  
Instead of responding, Andrew pulled his phone from his pocket in a quick, fluid movement, and pointed the camera at Neil.  
  
‘Yes or no?’ he asked.  
  
The answer was already in Neil Josten’s stubbornly blue eyes.  
  
‘Yes,’ Neil said, staring straight through the lens.  
  
Andrew’s breath caught.  
And he took the photo.  
  
Neil had been right.  
With a few, quick movements, Andrew had erased the _thought_ of looking.  
  
He was looking.  
  
x  
  
‘Andrew!’ Nicky called out, and on reflex, Andrew looked over his shoulder at his cousin.  
  
When he looked back, Neil Josten was gone.  
  
Like a photograph.  
Blink, and all you’ve got is that one moment  
and nothing more.  
  
‘Who was that?’ Nicky asked next to him. ‘Also, I asked Erik to bring us some snacks, so he should be here in a minute.’  
  
‘Neil Josten,’ Andrew said, the name feeling fleeting on his tongue.  
  
‘Uh, okay. Should I know him?’  
  
‘I don’t think anyone does.’  
  
‘Yeahh,’ Nicky said, dragging out the _yeah_ until it started getting on Andrew’s nerves. ‘That’s not cryptic as fuck.’  
  
Erik arrived then.  
  
‘I brought a little bit of everything,’ he said, holding up three plastic plates. ‘I don’t know what you like, Andrew, sorry.’  
  
‘Oh, _babe!_ ’ Nicky cooed. ‘You’re so nice, that’s totally okay.’  
  
Andrew grabbed all the too-small brownies off the plates.  
  
‘Hey!’ Nicky protested. ‘Just because you’re having gay emotions, doesn’t mean you can emotional eat _our_ brownies.’  
  
Andrew stared at him.  
  
‘Write a fucking poem about it.’  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; Andrew had not given Neil consent to ruin his shots.
> 
> Uhh, so I hope this is something? :D Gosh, I've missed these boys. 
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you thought if you want! Thank you so much for reading, and enjoy the rest of your week <3 <3 
> 
> AND LOOK AT [this beautiful art piece](https://nikipuppeteer.tumblr.com/post/178469251138/so-i-made-my-version-of-one-of-neils-sketches-of#notes) of Andrew, by nikipuppeteer <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> Too warm to function. Send water to your local writer friend.
> 
> But also, enjoy reading!

The next day, Andrew got an email. And because he wasn’t paying attention to his boring teacher anyway, he opened it.

[From: Neil Josten]  
Give me my picture.  
  
Oh, so it was _his_ picture now?  
  
[From: Andrew Minyard]  
Last time I checked, I took the photo.  
  
The reply was fast  
and snarky.  
  
[From: Neil Josten]  
Another reason why sketches are better. We _make_ them, while you _take_ something away.  
  
Oh for fuck’s sake.  
  
[From: Andrew Minyard]  
I never _gave_ you the right to be so fucking annoying  
  
In the background, the voice of his art history teacher droned on and on and on.  
  
Andrew thought there was no point in exploring what was important to someone else. Feelings were your own.  
He’d never sought to share them with someone else.  
  
A notification on his laptop.  
Another email.  
  
[From: Lee Hall]  
Andrew,  
  
They loved your photo at the exhibition. If I were you, I’d take more. Could be your big breakthrough.  
  
_Kind regards,_ _  
__Professor L. D. Hall_ _  
__  
_ Except, hey, Hall wasn’t him.  
  
Andrew ignored the email  
and so he didn’t see the one from Neil Josten until a day later.  
  
x  
  
Not wanting to deal with his cousin and his sadness, because his boyfriend had left again, nor with Kevin and his desire to always, _always_ , discuss art, Andrew went outside with his lunch and sat down on one of the picnic benches.  
  
His legs bumped against something soft.  
  
‘ _Fuck_ , get away!’ someone shouted from underneath the table.  
  
No fucking way.  
  
Andrew bent down, and was met with the view of Neil Josten sitting underneath a picnic table, cross-legged, a sketchbook on his lap.  
  
‘What are you doing at my table?’ Neil spat, blue eyes irritated.  
  
‘ _Your_ table,’ Andrew repeated.  
  
‘Yeah.’  
  
‘I think you have to actually sit _at_ the table for it to be yours, Josten.’  
  
Neil’s eyes turned wide in mock surprise. ‘What? Really? I had no idea, _Minyard_.’  
  
So Andrew kicked him.  
  
But Neil Josten refused to move.  
  
Fine.  
Eating his sandwich, Andrew took out his phone and scrolled through his email.  
  
[From: Neil Josten]  
I’d be more than willing to sign another consent form.  
  
Sassy little shit.  
  
‘Like I’d let you sign that,’ Andrew said.  
  
To his surprise, Neil knew immediately what he was talking about.  
  
‘You seem so bent on consent, I figured it was worth a try.’  
  
‘Yeah, trauma does that to you,’ Andrew replied boredly.  
  
Silence.  
Though, if he listened closely, he could hear the scratching of a pencil over fancy paper,  
putting down lines that were quick to erase.  
  
Too easy.  
It was too easy.  
  
Some lines  
you could never erase.  
  
‘They want me to ink the sketch,’ Neil said suddenly.  
  
If Andrew laughed,  
he would.  
  
‘You can’t erase ink.’  
  
‘I know.’  
  
The pencil stopped moving,  
but Neil started  
as he crawled out from under the table and stared Andrew down.  
  
‘I don’t want to ink that sketch,’ he said.  
  
‘Then fucking don’t, Josten.’  
  
For once, Neil’s irritated, attention _claiming_ blue eyes looked away.  
  
‘I told them I’d make another sketch. And ink that one.’  
  
Andrew started packing his things.  
  
‘Good luck,’ he said.  
  
‘Wait,’ Neil said, taking a step closer. ‘I told them it would be of you.’  
  
But Andrew didn’t wait.  
He stood up, and slung his bag over his shoulder.  
  
First _his_ teacher had told him to take more photos of the walking disaster that was Neil Josten  
and now Neil wanted to sketch him again.  
  
Andrew looked over his shoulder  
and did his best to breathe normally as he looked into Neil’s daringly blue eyes.  
  
‘That’s not consent though, is it?’  
  
x  
  
No.  
No, you know what wasn’t fucking _consent?_  
  
Andrew lowered his camera, and looked at the demolished building.  
At the fallen, shattered bricks on the ground,  
the naked wires dangling in the air, ripped away from their foundation.

Having nowhere to go.  
  
He held up his camera again,  
peered through the viewfinder  
and took the shot.  
  
But what he saw on the screen?

Nothing.  
  
A broken building,  
boring in its ordinarily torn down state.  
  
Nothing like Neil Josten,  
whose broken pieces seemed to make something so, _so_ interesting that it annoyed Andrew to no end.  
  
Andrew had not given Neil consent to ruin his shots  
and yet here he was, a week late for his latest assignment, because he couldn’t find a photo that he didn’t _hate_ .  
  
x  
  
‘If you don’t hand in an assignment, you know what the alternative is,’ his teacher threatened  
  
Andrew just continued packing his bag,  
shoving his notes in there with all his pent-up frustration about his inability to take a good fucking photo.  
  
‘You could always shoot a few more shots of that guy,’ the teacher said slowly. ‘That would-’  
  
‘No,’ Andrew said.  
  
The alternative was shit  
but taking more pictures of Neil Josten,  
indulging in this-  
No.  
There was no this.  
  
‘Okay,’ his teacher sighed. ‘I’ll let the art classes know they have a model for Friday.’  
  
‘No nude,’ Andrew said, before shoving past his teacher.  
  
x  
  
Mind blank, Andrew sat down at the assigned chair.  
The one on the stage.  
  
As long as these hipsters didn’t talk, he could stare off and not be here.  
Might even do some visualization,  
imagine a world where he didn’t need Neil fucking Josten to get a good shot.  
  
‘Could you cross your arms, please?’ a weedy woman asked him. The teacher probably.  
  
Andrew did what she asked  
then searched for a suitable spot to rest his eyes for the remainder of the-  
He glanced at the students, and felt his irritation grow when he noticed the sketchbooks and pencils, so he quickly averted his gaze and stared out the window.  
  
That was, until he felt an insistent stare  
boring into his head,  
staring stubbornly at his face.  
  
‘Could you turn around?’ the teacher asked. ‘Oh, and maybe lean with your elbows on your knees?’  
  
Maybe.  
  
‘Should or shouldn’t I?’ he asked flatly.  
  
‘U-uh yes!’ she squeaked.  
  
So Andrew turned around and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him  
as he stared Neil Josten down.  
  
The blue in those eyes was so fucking annoying  
but as soon as Neil looked down to start sketching  
Andrew wanted to see it again.  
  
His hands were already itching for his camera,  
to photograph the interesting blue from a high point of view  
like the sky had been flipped  
and up was down.  
  
To photograph the broken blinks  
the cracks that showed every other fucking second  
before Neil Josten somehow managed to piece himself together again,  
jamming together puzzle pieces that didn’t fit.  
  
Neil looked up again  
and their gazes met instantly.  
  
Sitting on the higher stage,  
Andrew felt like he was  
falling.  
  
x  
  
Andrew was smoking outside when Neil Josten found him.  
For the first time, he realized.  
Because _he’d_ found Neil in the park, found his sketch, and then walked into his art class.  
Still.  
  
‘Do I have to say it?’ Neil said, stopping in front of him.  
  
Taking another drag from his cigarette, Andrew stared blankly at him  
until Neil grinned.  
  
‘You were in _my_ class.’  
  
Andrew blew out smoke on the words, ‘Fuck you.’  
  
And there it was.  
Through the smoke, hiding parts of his face, were Neil’s stubborn blue eyes, staring straight at Andrew.

Putting his cigarette in his mouth, Andrew quickly pulled his camera out of his bag, and readied the shot.  
  
He inhaled before spitting his cigarette away,  
and blowing smoke in Neil’s face again.  
  
_Click_ .  
Andrew took the shot,  
meeting Neil’s gaze through the camera.  
  
Within a blink or two, the smoke was gone, and he could see everything again.  
Or what Neil wanted him to see anyway.  
  
Andrew had had one second, but when he checked the photo  
his breath caught.  
  
One photo  
was all it took to _fall.  
  
_ ‘You have another photo of me now,’ Neil said. He sounded almost satisfied. Andrew understood why as soon as Neil opened his mouth again. ‘So let me sketch you again.’  
  
Andrew stared at him.  
  
Of course, Neil stared back.  
  
‘When?’ Andrew asked.  
  
‘Tonight,’ Neil answered.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; ‘Great,’ he said sarcastically. ‘You’re going to fuck up my drawing.’
> 
> Thank for reading  
> too warm for more word
> 
> BUT not too warm for looking at [this beautiful Neil](http://cats-are-assholes.tumblr.com/post/175282029394/neil-josten-somehow-managed-to-piece-himself) by cats-are-assholes!! Thank you for using my words <3
> 
> And look at [THIS beautiful art piece](http://sansaasnark.tumblr.com/post/175735625576/andrew-took-the-shot-meeting-neils-gaze-through) by sansaasnark!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> Late update woah! I should already be in bed! But. PLOTTWIST,, I am already in bed! 
> 
> And still I'm uploading!  
> what an absolute madman i am
> 
> Enjoy!

‘You taking some late night pictures?’ Kevin asked, looking up when Andrew walked into the living room with his bag and hoodie.  
  
‘No,’ Andrew answered, rummaging through the cupboards for something sweet to take with him, in case he got bored sitting around.   
  
The chance of that happening was small, but never give up _hope,_ right?  
  
Normally, Nicky would pester him about where he would be going, and if he was going to meet people and maybe fall in love, but as it had only been a week or three since Erik left, he was still holed up in his room with his tears and Skype.  
  
Andrew grabbed a box of sweets and, after closing the front door behind him, tore it open. Grabbing a handful, and walking slowly down the stairs as to not drop any, he stuffed the box in his bag and-  
  
Fucking froze in the door opening downstairs when he saw a hooded figure leaning against the low brick walls on both sides of the pathway leading to Andrew’s building.  
  
Neil Josten pulled his hoodie down, and looked at Andrew.  
  
‘Hi, Andrew Minyard.’  
  
It was fucking threatening  
and Andrew felt something stir inside his chest.   
  
The urge to pull out one of his knives and stab it to death was very big.  
  
‘Neil Josten,’ he answered, forcing himself to slowly unwrap one of the sweets before putting it into his mouth. And chew.  
  
He was not affected _at all_.   
  
Neil pushed himself off and started walking into the darkness.  
  
Andrew followed him, forcefully tearing wrappers off the sweets and stuffing them into his mouth.  
  
x  
  
Without much care for rules, Neil Josten picked the lock of the underground parking garage, and carefully pushed the iron door open.  
  
He looked back and gestured for Andrew to follow silently,  
but Andrew merely raised his eyebrows and watched Neil slip silently, illegally, into the building.    
  
Someone had been doing this often.  
  
Neil held the door open, so Andrew followed him inside  
and with a kick of his shoe,  
slammed the iron door close behind him.  
  
Neil winced and whirled around, glaring at him with _livid_ blue eyes.  
  
‘What the fuck,’ he hissed. ‘We’re not supposed to be here.’  
  
Using his smile like a weapon, Andrew grinned and put his hands inside his hoodie.  
  
‘Live a little, Josten.’  
  
Neil looked at him like he thought Andrew was stupid.  
  
‘I don’t want to die,’ Neil snapped. ‘Does that count as living in your book?’  
  
‘No.’ Andrew let the smile die on his face, and stared straight at Neil. ‘That’s boring.’  
  
They shared a silence for nearly a minute,  
until Neil turned around and walked to the middle of a huge deck, a few cars parked here and there.  
  
He threw his backpack on the ground before sitting down himself, crossing his legs while he searched through his bag for his sketchbook.  
  
Andrew had just reached into his box of sweets again when Neil said,  
‘No. I want you to sit against that car.’  
  
Oh, really?  
  
Holding Neil’s gaze, Andrew took out a piece of candy, and started unwrapping it slowly. _Slowly_.  
  
He put it on his tongue, the sweetness bursting through his system, before closing his mouth and chewing boredly.   
  
Neil pointed to the car behind Andrew.  
  
‘Could you sit there?’  
  
Better.  
  
Andrew balled up the wrapper and threw it at Neil’s head before turning and sitting exactly where Neil wanted him to.  
How boring.  
  
‘Can you tilt your head back?’ Neil asked, already sketching.   
  
Andrew could hear the scratch of the pencil echo through the quiet, yellow and orange parking garage. Leaning his head back,  
he could see one of the lights in the back flicker on and off.  
  
On  
off  
on  
off  
  
‘No,’ Neil said, interrupting Andrew’s blank staring. ‘Look at me.’  
  
Oh?  
  
Andrew dragged his gaze down  
into the blue abyss that was Neil’s intense stare.  
  
It sucked him right in.  
  
‘So he does like people looking at him,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘Not people,’ Neil corrected him. ‘You. You don’t judge.’  
  
Andrew raised an eyebrow.  
  
‘You judge my art,’ Neil said, ‘my choice of location, but not me.’  
  
Dangerous topic.  
  
‘You know where I live,’ Andrew said.

‘Almost everybody lives on campus.’  
  
‘Do you?’  
  
‘For now.’  
  
‘Sketchy,’ Andrew said.  
  
Something close to irritation crossed Neil’s face, especially when Andrew looked pointedly at Neil’s sketchbook, then back to his eyes again.  
  
‘I was searching for the right composition,’ Neil lied badly.  
  
‘Sketchy has a negative connotation,’ Andrew continued, ignoring him. ‘Photography doesn’t.’  
  
‘Yeah, it does. It’s called _intrusive_ .’  
  
The corners of Andrew’s mouth twitched.  
  
x  
  
His phone buzzed after thirty minutes of orange light, blue eyes and silence.  
  
‘You can check it,’ Neil said, giving permission when Andrew hadn’t been asking.  
  
Little shit.  
He was almost tempted to _not_ check it  
but Andrew had promised they could always reach him on his phone.  
  
[Nicky]   
andrew!!! there’s a special art class i want to follow in the art gallery!! its supposed to be really prestigious yknow  
  
[Andrew]  
Good luck  
  
[Nicky]   
no I want you to follow it too!! i already convinced kevin  
  
[Andrew]   
It’s the Art Gallery. Of course Kevin is going  
  
[Nicky]   
pretty please???  
  
Andrew pocketed his phone.   
It felt useless to observe someone else’s style, simply because it wasn’t his, so why compare them?

But.  
  
Sometimes.  
  
Sometimes it was interesting to see how other artists interpreted their emotions,  
their fears.  
  
How they tried to capture what made them _fall_.  
  
Andrew looked at Neil, who was hunched over his sketchbook, auburn hair falling in front of his eyes, covering up the truths.  
  
No.   
Andrew was pretty sure even Neil’s eyes could lie.  
  
‘Why art?’ he asked.  
  
‘Why not?’ Neil replied without looking up.  
  
Fucking smart mouth.  
Andrew reached inside his hoodie and pulled out a cigarette and lighter.  
  
The metallic sound of the lighter made Neil look up.  
  
‘Great,’ he said sarcastically. ‘You’re going to fuck up my drawing.’  
  
Andrew lit the cigarette.  
  
‘It’s not a drawing. It’s a sketch.’  
  
As he blew out white smoke that looked orange in the parking garage,  
Neil put his pencil against his lip, pushing the skin up a little.  
  
It caught Andrew’s attention.  
  
‘You’ll be a sketch too,’ Neil said eventually.  
  
There was a smugness in his voice  
and blue eyes.  
If Andrew had to title this picture, he would call it  
_Smartass.  
  
_ He took another drag of his cigarette.  
  
‘You’re already a photograph.’  
  
Something vulnerable crossed Neil’s face.  
  
It was like stripping away the top coat of a painting  
and discovering another one underneath.  
  
Only, Andrew seemed to just get glimpses of it now and then.  
Not enough to get the bigger picture.  
  
Yet.  
  
Yet?  
  
‘Do you keep the photos you’ve taken?’ Neil asked, in a voice that was too vulnerable for Andrew’s comfort.  
  
‘I don’t erase photos,’ he answered flatly.  
  
Neil’s blue eyes were piercing through him like the sky  
when Andrew was standing on a roof.  
  
Breath-taking.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
‘Come to the Art Gallery’s art class with me,’ Andrew said instead, avoiding the question.  
  
Neil’s eyebrows shot up.  
  
‘You’re saying I need lessons?’  
  
‘I’m saying hurry the fuck up with your drawing.’  
  
The corner of Neil’s mouth tilted up. A little.  
  
‘I thought it was a sketch?’  
  
Andrew threw his cigarette on the ground  
and crushed it beneath his boot.  
  
‘Yes or no, Neil Josten?’ he asked.  
  
It felt like standing on the edge of a high building.  
Neil’s answer would determine whether Andrew would tip forward or not.  
  
One thing was for sure.  
It was fucking dangerous to seek Neil out.  
  
But safe had never been interesting.  
  
‘Yeah, sure, I’ll come to the art class,’ Neil answered, his pencil scratching on his sketchbook, pressing lines into paper that could still be erased  
if Andrew wished.  
  
x  
  
‘Two photos?!’ Nicky exclaimed, staring at the picture on the desk. ‘You’ve… actually…’  
  
Words seemed lost  
as Nicky opened and closed his mouth, turning a brief, incredulous look to Andrew.  
  
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Professor Hall said proudly, eyes also glued to the picture.  
  
Even Kevin was looking at the picture of Neil Josten,  
staring straight at the camera,  
half hidden behind the cigarette smoke.  
  
‘Why the smoke?’ Kevin asked.  
  
It took everything Andrew had to not look too,  
because as always the _thought_ was too fucking tempting.  
  
‘Because,’ Andrew said, pushing himself off the desk. ‘Neil Josten is like smoke.’  
  
Three reactions.   
  
Kevin said,  
‘ _Smoke_ would’ve been a better title than falling.’  
  
Nicky said,  
‘You know you’re kind of addicted to smoking, right?’

Professor Hall said,  
‘But it’s so much _more_ than that!’  
  
Andrew didn’t like any of them.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; ‘That’s not a colour,’ Andrew said.
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading <3 <3 I hope you liked this chapter too! I'm sorry they're a little short, I'm on vacation right now so writing time has been reduced to whenever I'm not exhausted. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought if you want, though :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> You know, I think I actually tanned a little while standing in line for 65 minutes just so I could pretend to be the rat from ratatouille. 
> 
> Okay wait, that was a ride at Disneyland.  
> Context.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Neil Josten looked like he’d just committed a crime,  
hoodie up,   
head down  
his footsteps light and quick.  
  
‘There he is,’ Andrew said to his impatient friends, when Neil stopped in front of them.  
  
‘Ready to work with colours?’ Neil asked.   
  
Of course he’d looked up which class they were going to.  
Andrew would’ve done the same.  
  
‘Ready to make something lasting?’ he shot back.  
  
Neil shifted uncomfortably.  
  
Andrew leaned forward into his personal space, staring at the dark shadows crossing Neil’s face.   
Hidden- No, hiding behind the hoodie.  
  
So he reached up and pulled it down.  
  
There were the colours again.  
  
Right now,   
Neil was painted in a terrible shade called _anxiety_.  
  
Without another word, Andrew turned and walked towards the entrance of the Art Gallery.  
He heard Nicky gasp behind him.  
  
‘Neil Josten!’  
  
The deafening sound of Neil’s discomfort at being recognized  
was as noticeable as the flash of a camera.  
  
And Andrew hadn’t even turned around.  
  
x  
  
‘You know how colours work together, you know how to mix cooler tones to create a certain atmosphere… But what I want you to do today, is draw using only different shades of _one_ colour.’   
  
The teacher, a short woman with black hair, looked at all of them.  
  
‘So think carefully what you want to get across… Then paint it.’  
  
Behind her was a long table with a multitude of colours.   
Like kindergarten.  
  
All those colours,   
and Neil returned with grey.  
  
‘That’s not a colour,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘You haven’t even picked one,’ Neil retorted without looking up, getting settled behind his paper. He took a few pencils out of his pocket and started working on an outline.  
  
‘Besides,’ Neil continued, pencil flying over the canvas, ‘I thought you’d appreciate the grey. Don’t photographers love their black and white filters?’  
  
Andrew heard Nicky giggle beside him.  
  
‘I don’t use filters,’ he said. ‘Life isn’t black and white.’  
  
Neil looked at him, one eyebrow raised.  
It wasn’t quite surprise though.  
  
‘So you’re a realist?’  
  
‘Don’t tell me you’re a dreamer.’  
  
‘I’m not.’  
  
Andrew watched Neil for a second or two,  
the unspoken question hanging between them.  
  
 _Who are you?  
  
_ As Andrew moved to his feet to pick out a colour, he wondered what title Neil would give himself.  
  
He remembered Neil hadn’t named his sketch at the exhibition.  
  
Yeah, that sounded about right.  
  
 _Nameless  
_ by Neil Josten.  
  
What a poetic contradiction.  
  
‘Do you have trouble finding inspiration?’ the teacher asked, standing behind them with her hands clasped together like she wanted to look active but not too much.  
  
Andrew stared straight into Neil’s eyes as he answered, ‘No.’   
  
x  
  
Ignoring Nicky’s knowing look, Andrew uncapped the bottle of the bluest blue he could find and dumped a big amount on a plastic plate.   
  
It took Neil until Andrew was dripping paint onto his canvas before he asked,  
‘Why blue?’  
  
‘Study your colours,’ Andrew answered boredly, continuing to let big blobs of paint fall onto his tilted canvas.  
  
‘I don’t use colours.’  
  
That was not a surprise to anyone.  
  
‘What do you use?’ Kevin asked.   
  
‘Mostly pencils,’ Neil answered easily.   
  
‘Sketches?’   
  
There was judgement in Kevin’s voice.  
Neil picked up on it too.  
  
‘Don’t tell me you’re a photographer too. I learned they’re very entitled.’  
  
‘Yet you never give titles to your art,’ Andrew said. ‘Why’s that, Neil?’  
  
Neil shrugged.  
  
‘Doesn’t matter if my name is on it or not. It’s art. It’s for everyone.’  
  
Andrew laughed.  
Humourlessly.  
  
‘How priceless,’ he said flatly.  
  
Neil glared at him.  
  
‘Why blue?’ he asked again. Stubbornly.  
  
His blue eyes were staring so fiercely at Andrew  
that Andrew had to remind himself to keep breathing.   
  
‘Figure it out yourself, Josten,’ he replied boredly, before returning to his painting.   
  
The blue dribbled across the canvas like rain against a window.  
Like blood from someone who thought they could claim anything.  
Like tears.  
  
Blue.  
The colour of freedom.  
  
And Neil Josten’s eyes.  
  
x  
  
‘Can I see what you’ve drawn?’ Nicky asked curiously, leaning over Andrew’s painting as he tried to peer at Neil’s sketch.  
  
Andrew saw Neil leaning back  
but he picked up his canvas and tilted it towards them.  
  
Painted in harsh grey was a guy, holding up a phone in front of his face.  
Painted in soft grey was smoke, blowing out of the guy’s mouth.  
  
It was absolutely beautiful.  
  
‘Wow…’ Nicky said.  
  
‘That’s good,’ Kevin the traitor said.  
  
Neil’s smug, blue eyes turned to Andrew next.  
  
‘Well?’ he asked.  
  
Andrew wouldn’t give in.  
  
‘So what was it like,’ he said instead, ‘painting something permanent, making something lasting?’  
  
‘Shit,’ Neil replied. ‘I made a lot of mistakes. Ones I can’t erase.’  
  
The honesty was surprising.  
It made Andrew lean forward,  
close enough that he could discern the interesting shades of blue in Neil’s eyes.  
  
He heard Neil’s breath catch.  
  
Hm.  
  
‘That’s life,’ Andrew said. He added in a low voice, ‘Can’t be a sketch your whole life, Josten.’  
  
But of course Neil didn’t back down.  
He met Andrew’s stare head-on.  
  
It was exhilarating  
and frustrating.   
  
When would he pull away?  
  
‘You can lecture me about my life when you’ve turned the camera to yourself for once,’ Neil replied. ‘But I guess focusing on others is easier, right?’  
  
Andrew gritted his teeth in irritation.  
Then let go.  
Pulled away, leaning back in his chair as he watched Neil boredly.  
  
‘Figured that’s your advice,’ he said. ‘Never focus on something other than yourself.’  
  
Irritation flickered over Neil’s face now too.   
Took him long enough.  
  
They stared at each other through the smell of paint  
the sound of brushes gliding over canvases  
and ideas being made real.  
  
But when would Neil Josten become real?  
  
‘So… I’m guessing nobody wants to look at my art?’ Nicky asked.  
  
x  
  
It was a cruel world.  
  
Andrew balled his hands into fists, trying to keep his anger in check.   
  
But it was very tempting to kick the printer.  
  
This morning, their internet had exploded for some reason, which meant Andrew couldn’t get into his mail to digitally submit a photo to his teacher.   
  
Which meant not submitting it before the deadline.  
  
Luckily, he kept his photos on a USB.   
  
The university’s printer was large, grey and loud  
and anything but fast.   
After scrolling for half an hour and nearly punching a hole in the rusty touchpad, Andrew had finally selected the photo he wanted to print.   
  
And it, the printer, was actually fulfilling its sole purpose in life, which was more than Andrew could say of _some_ people,  
when the fucking ink ran out.  
  
Andrew’s patience was thin.  
  
‘You know, that’s another problem with photography. You’re so dependent on-’  
  
‘I will break your fucking pencils,’ Andrew hissed.  
  
Neil Josten shut up,  
but he moved closer to the printer, then reached for the half-printed photograph  
and pulled it out.   
  
Large, black ink streaks on the expensive glossy paper.   
  
The end result could’ve been artsy if Andrew was that type of art student.  
He wasn’t.  
  
He snatched it out of Neil’s hands and ripped it in two.  
  
‘A building?’ Neil asked. ‘Why? What’s your assignment? Architecture?’  
  
Running out of patience.  
Real fucking fast.  
  
Andrew held up the ripped, half-photograph,   
the end that showed square windows  
with tight, closed curtains.  
  
‘The assignment was intimacy.’   
  
Neil’s blue eyes darted to the torn photograph.  
He raised an eyebrow.  
  
‘If you say so.’  
  
‘I can do without the sarcasm,’ Andrew threatened.  
  
‘But not without the printer.’   
  
Neil grinned,   
but there was no real humour behind the smile.   
It was a mere motion,  
just like Andrew shoving Neil against the wall was a mere motion.  
  
They were so close  
that Andrew’s nose brushed against Neil’s as he stared into those blue eyes that looked anything but scared at being pushed around.  
  
If anything, Neil looked ready to fight back.  
  
Defiant and stubborn.  
Neil Josten everyone.  
  
‘Did you not hear me?’ Andrew said in a low voice. ‘Let me explain. I _will_ break all your pencils. And I will rip your shitty sketchbook apart.’  
  
‘You could do that,’ Neil agreed. ‘But you still won’t pass your assignment with that photo.’  
  
Andrew’s hands itched.  
He wanted to push a knife between Neil’s ribs _so_ badly. Make him lose his breath as many times as he had made Andrew lose his.  
  
But.  
But there was something so interesting   
about the way Neil stared back stubbornly at him,  
the way he seemed to almost lean forward.  
  
Andrew wanted to close the distance between their lips  
and swallow all of Neil Josten’s antagonistic words.  
  
Instead, he pushed Neil back against the wall and stalked off.  
  
x  
  
One day too late, Andrew mailed his photo.  
  
Two days later, his teacher stopped in front of his desk after class and made a face that reeked of disappointment.  
  
‘I am disappointed,’ professor Hall said.   
  
Andrew continued packing his bag.  
  
‘Really.'  
  
‘I expected something better from you, Andrew! You’ve been showing me all these art pieces, filled to the brim with _emotions_ , and what you’ve given me now… It’s- it’s empty. Emotionless.’  
  
A hollow feeling  
inside his chest.  
  
The usual.  
  
‘You make the mistake of thinking intimacy means the same to everyone,’ Andrew said flatly, staring straight at Hall.   
  
But his teacher shook his head.  
  
‘No. No, I think you’re afraid of taking this step, Andrew. I think-’  
  
‘I already have a psychologist,’ Andrew interrupted him, and moved to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  
Until.  
  
‘Well, you’re failing this assignment if you don’t hand in something better.’  
  
Defiant, blue eyes flashed through Andrew’s mind like the most stubborn lightning he’d ever seen.  
  
‘Fine.’   
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; ‘What’s intimacy to you?’
> 
> I typed the question for the preview, but now I am actually curious as to what YOUR answer would be :o or if you can guess what Kevin's answer is hahahah
> 
> ALSO did you catch that nod to my dreamwalker fic hmmmMMMm
> 
> ANYWAYS thank you so much for reading again <3 And let me know what you thought if you want!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> Here's a POEM about my day ;u;
> 
> Today I baked a cake.  
> I handed a piece to my roommate.  
> The world slowed down  
> and our hands missed.  
> Just  
> barely.  
> The cake  
> fell  
> on the ground.
> 
> Splat  
> said the cake.
> 
> Fuck  
> said my roommate.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

  
Andrew had opinions, sure.  
But so did his roommates, and sometimes they were different enough from his own that they sparked another idea.  
  
So when Nicky finally wandered into the living room, Andrew leaned his head back and looked upside down at his cousin.  
  
‘What’s intimacy to you?’  
  
‘Good sex?’ Kevin answered, even though the question hadn’t been directed at him. He was working on an essay about the use of fruit in paintings, and from the look of concentration on his face, loving it a lot.  
  
Nicky gasped, clutching the box of chocolates he’d just snatched from the cupboard to his chest.  
Which made Andrew zero in on the fact that he’d planned to eat those later.  
  
‘I’ll buy new ones,’ Nicky said quickly, noticing his gaze. ‘But back to the monstrosity that is our roommate. Kevin, you robot.’  
  
Kevin looked up from his laptop.  
  
‘I’m not a robot. You can’t have sex if you’re a robot.’  
  
‘But you can have sex _with_ a robot,’ Nicky countered.  
  
Kevin blinked.  
  
‘Really?’  
  
‘Oh my god, you have a laptop, don’t you? Don’t tell me you never look up weird porn.’  
  
‘I use it for school.’  
  
‘Oh, you actually said that with a serious expression wow.’  
  
Andrew stretched out on the couch, debating between napping or listening to this trainwreck of a conversation.  
  
‘I still stand by my opinion,’ Kevin said stubbornly.  
  
‘No!’ Nicky screeched. ‘Intimacy is not just sex, Kevin! It’s like, hey, here’s my heart and soul, my desires and fears, please grind them into a hamburger and enjoy the meal!’  
  
Andrew turned around for Kevin’s reaction.  
It was a mix between horror and fear.  
  
‘Intimacy is people _eating_ your heart?’  
  
To Nicky’s credit, he just stared straight back at Kevin as he said,  
‘Yes.’  
  
x  
  
It was so ridiculously easy to get onto the university’s roof.  
  
Especially around twilight, when people were either eating or getting to their evening classes and clubs.  
  
There was no one here, so with his camera in hand, Andrew walked straight to the ledge without stopping.  
  
He felt his breath catch when he could see the ground far, far below.  
  
Was this intimacy?  
  
Heart racing, palms sweating, body swaying between two choices.  
  
Flinging itself over the edge  
or staying firmly on the ground with both feet.  
  
‘Suicide won’t make your art better,’ Neil Josten said, scaring the shit out of Andrew, causing him to nearly tip forward.  
  
It seemed to be Neil’s speciality to make Andrew lose his breath so spectacularly.  
  
‘Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made for art,’ Andrew replied, gripping his camera tightly.  
  
He kind of wished it was Neil’s neck.  
  
‘What are you doing here?’ Neil asked, kind of accusatory. Like it was _his_ rooftop.  
  
When Andrew didn’t reply, there was the sound of shuffling.  
  
He could hear Neil sit down on the ground, could hear the telltale sound of his backpack hitting the ground, and paper being flipped as Neil opened his shitty sketchbook.  
  
Andrew didn’t need to turn around to know what Neil looked like right now.  
  
But the _thought_ of turning around.  
  
Raising his camera, Andrew peered through the viewfinder.  
  
The sky was all reds and oranges,  
dying streaks painted over the blue.  
  
They were all faded colours, all soft, and they’d soon disappear.  
Like feelings.  
  
Because this kind of breathlessness would soon be over.  
Soon, Neil Josten would be boring and predictable.  
  
Andrew couldn’t wait.  
  
Five minutes passed.  
  
‘What is intimacy?’ he finally asked, still peering through the viewfinder, debating whether to photograph the hard buildings below or the soft sky above.  
  
The sound of a pencil scratching on paper stopped.  
  
For a second, Andrew held his breath  
and enjoyed the silence that was only possible so high up.  
  
Then, Neil Josten’s answer.  
  
‘Honesty.’  
  
Andrew took the shot of the sky  
and turned around.  
  
‘Really.’  
  
Neil’s blue eyes were anything but faded or soft  
as they looked up at Andrew.  
  
‘Is that why you lie all the time?’ Andrew asked.  
  
Instead of answering, Neil held out his hand.  
  
‘Give me your camera.’  
  
_No_.  
  
Even his own mind was boring and predictable at times.  
  
‘Come and get it, Josten,’ Andrew said boredly.  
  
Without another thought, the shitty sketchbook was put aside,  
the cheap pencil put on top,  
and then Neil crossed the distance between them.  
  
He reached for the camera,  
but Andrew held it back and said, ‘No. Give me a truth first.’  
  
‘I want to stay here,’ Neil said, looking at him.  
  
‘On the roof?’  
  
‘This place. Here. The university.’  
  
‘We all have to grow up at some point,’ Andrew said, handing the camera over. ‘Can’t go to school forever.’  
  
Neil took it from him and walked back.  
  
‘I’ve been grown up my entire life.’  
  
He turned around,  
held up the camera  
and took a photo of Andrew.  
  
Without permission.  
  
Neil’s eyes glinted as he lowered the camera and said,  
‘There’s your shot. You’re welcome.’  
  
x  
  
After staring for a full minute,  
Nicky said, ‘That’s you.’  
  
Andrew thought that was obvious, so he didn’t answer.  
  
Kevin joined them. He took one look at the photo before already dishing out his unwanted, unprofessional, and uninteresting opinion.  
  
‘You handed in a selfie?’  
  
‘That’s not a selfie,’ Nicky said. ‘Look, even though the silhouette is very dark, you can see both his arms are down.’  
  
Kevin said nothing.  
Instead, he leaned forward to take a closer look at the photo.  
  
The bottom half of the photo was black,  
with one ink streak in the middle.  
Andrew’s silhouette.  
  
The top was filled with orange and red and streaks of white.  
  
It was like the photograph had been ripped out of the printer too soon.  
  
Both times, it had been Neil who’d ripped apart the image  
and given him something that Andrew wasn’t sure he’d call art.  
  
The memory of pushing Neil against the wall was clear in Andrew’s mind,  
and, irritated, he turned away to give his obligatory feedback to two other works in the class.  
  
He was stopped by professor Hall however.  
  
‘Andrew,’ he said. ‘Much better. I’ve never seen you use something personal in your work before.’  
  
‘It’s not personal,’ Andrew said. ‘It’s me.’  
  
‘Still.’ His teacher smiled. ‘You two must be close if you allowed them to take a photo of you.’  
  
‘No.’  
  
‘Love isn’t-’  
  
‘That’s right,’ Andrew interrupted him before the bullshit could spiral too much. ‘It isn’t.’  
  
x  
  
Standing in line to pay for his food, Andrew stared absentmindedly out of the cafeteria’s large windows  
when he saw Neil fucking Josten walk past.  
  
Well, he saw a familiar-looking, drawn up hoodie shuffle past at a speed that barely passed for “normal” and was edging towards “on the run from the police”.  
  
The sight was a fucking trigger.  
  
Andrew’s interest was jump started awake  
and his breath caught like he just hit the accelerator.  
Like he was speeding towards the fucking end goal.  
  
Irritated, Andrew paid for his food and then followed Neil outside.  
  
But Neil was nowhere to be seen.  
  
So Andrew walked towards the table he’d seen him last time and crouched down.  
Sure enough, Neil Josten was just grabbing an apple and his sketchbook.  
  
He didn’t look startled to see Andrew.  
He didn’t look like he was holding his breath  
or losing it.  
  
‘I passed my assignment,’ Andrew said flatly.  
  
Neil’s blue eyes shone  
even though there was no sun.  
  
‘So I was right.’  
  
‘How does it feel?’ Andrew asked slowly, dragging his finger through the sand on the ground, drawing a line between them. ‘To make something permanent?’  
  
Neil’s mouth opened  
and closed.  
All kinds of emotions flickered over his face, through his eyes, like colours that weren’t yet mixed.  
  
Though panic  
was a very obvious shade on Neil’s face.  
  
‘I’m not on the picture,’ Neil said quickly.  
  
‘No,’ Andrew agreed. ‘Not this one.’  
  
Finally, all the emotions mixed together in a muddled mess  
and Neil dropped his gaze to his sketchbook.  
  
Andrew followed his gaze.  
  
Pressed onto the paper with grey lines  
was a guy  
standing on the edge of a building  
staring at the city below him.  
  
The guy was completely filled in, almost nothing more than a silhouette.  
Like the shape  
or idea  
of a person.  
  
‘Is that you or me?’ Andrew asked.  
  
‘Huh, of course it’s y-’  
  
Neil stopped and looked more closely at the sketch.  
  
‘How?’ he finally asked, looking up and nearly catching Andrew off guard with the blue eyes and desperation.  
  
‘Photography, Josten. You look at what’s there. You see it, and catch it.’  
  
‘You make it permanent,’ Neil said, words coloured grey with all the emotions.  
  
‘I don’t make anything permanent,’ Andrew replied, moving to his feet.  
  
He’d seen enough emotions for a whole week.  
  
‘If you didn’t, you would erase the photos,’ Neil said, before Andrew could walk away.  
  
But those words would’ve stopped him anyway.  
  
He stepped closer to the table  
and erased the line he’d drawn in the sand with his foot.  
  
Let Neil try to cross it.  
  
‘Things that don’t change are boring,’ Andrew said flatly. ‘I usually don’t photograph the same thing twice.’  
  
He turned around and started walking away.  
Neither quickly, nor slow.  
  
There was the shuffle of feet behind him.

Then,  
‘So I’m interesting?’

Andrew felt the corner of his mouth twitch,  
but he didn’t turn around.  
  
_Now you are.  
  
_ x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; Their faces were close, and Andrew felt an almost uncontrollable urge to touch.
> 
> Neil, you gotta,,, stop sneaking up on people who are standing on ledges
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and all the support <3 It's really wonderful, and makes me super happy, so thank you!  
> And let me know what you thought of this chapter, if you :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> My life right now is iced tea, messy buns and summer dresses.  
> AND IT IS STILL WARM.
> 
> Also look, a longer chapter!  
> Enjoy!

‘I’m going to die, no, wait, I’m literally dying. Like, right now. This is my last breath, and I’m using it to inform you of my oncoming death.’  
  
Neither Kevin nor Andrew looked up from their laptops.  
  
‘ _ Guys! _ ’ Nicky exclaimed. ‘This is terrible, I’m having an art block. I don’t know what to draw and I won’t be able to finish my assignment on time and Erik will divorce me and I’ll die and be homeless.’  
  
‘You aren’t married,’ Kevin said without looking up.  
  
‘Work with me here!’  
  
‘Go out and find something new,’ Andrew said boredly.  
  
Nicky perked up.  
  
‘Are you going to help? Come with me? I might be more inspired if we visit an art store, or maybe, hm, an exhibition?’  
  
As soon as Nicky said the word ‘exhibition’, Andrew knew he was fucked.   
Kevin would never say no to the opportunity to review another exhibition and write about it on his fucking art blog.  
  
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Kevin said slowly, predictable as usual. ‘Let’s go, Andrew.’  
  
Like he could say that  
and Andrew would actually listen.  
  
‘What’s in it for me?’ Andrew asked boredly.  
  
‘Uh…’    
  
Nicky fell silent,  
which was good.   
  
It was good, because Andrew didn’t need anything,  
so Nicky could never think of anything to bribe him with.  
  
‘Just come,’ Kevin said. ‘You need to take a few photos for your new assignment anyway.’  
  
‘You have an awful lot of assignments,’ Nicky commented.  
  
With a definite  _ click _ , Andrew shut his laptop and moved to his feet.  
  
‘It’s just photos,’ he answered boredly. ‘Takes less time than-’  
  
He stopped just in time.  
  
‘Than painting?’ Nicky piped up.  
  
Instead of responding, Andrew grabbed his coat and camera  
and walked out the door.  
  
x  
  
The exhibition was mediocre at best,  
and boring at its finest.  
  
Kevin was already smiling creepily, rapidly clicking his pen while he looked around and jotted words in his little notebook.  
  
Nicky was also having a field day,  _ ooh _ ing and  _ aah _ ing at every painting. Could be because most of the paintings and sketches were of half naked men.  
  
‘This is, like, high end porn!’ Nicky exclaimed, just as an uptight looking female with her hair in the tightest bun possible stopped behind him.    
  
She cleared her throat shortly.  
  
Nicky jumped in surprise and quickly turned around.  
  
‘Oh!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh tell me you’re not the artist.’  
  
She held out her hand, her lips pursed together tightly as she pushed the words out with short breaths.   
  
‘I am.’  
  
‘I am  _ so _ sor-’  
  
‘Hi, I’m Kevin Day,’ Kevin interrupted Nicky’s pathetic attempt at fixing the situation. ‘Art show reviewer. I own a blog.’  
  
The tightness disappeared a little.  
  
‘Really?’ the woman said. ‘That’s good news. How are you experiencing the exhibit so far?’  
  
Kevin’s creepy smile increased, though others would probably interpret it as ‘charming’.    
It was almost funny to see people get fooled by his attitude.  
  
Such a con artist.  
  
‘It’s really great,’ Kevin smiled. ‘Fantastic work.’  
  
As soon as the woman walked away, Kevin turned back to Andrew and Nicky, and dropped the smile. He shook his head once.  
  
‘It’s garbage.’  
  
‘ _ What? _ ’ Nicky gasped. ‘You don’t like this one either? But- but- Look at all the hot guys here!’  
  
Kevin just stared at Nicky.  
  
x  
  
After the exhibition,  _ and _ the gift shop where Nicky bought a little postcard of a well endowed naked man to send to Erik, they went to the art store to pick up new supplies.   
  
Andrew mostly tuned out Nicky’s constant chatter and Kevin’s critical mumbling, while Nicky searched for new brushes.   
  
There were a lot of pretentious art students in the store, picking up supplies Andrew was sure were too expensive for them. He overheard one brag about the type of paper he used for his sketches, and how its thickness made for excellent inking and painting.    
  
Andrew watched the sketchbook in question.  
  
Expensive.  
  
Looking over his shoulder, he saw Kevin and Nicky discussing a certain brand of paint, their attention focused solely on the pointless discussion.   
  
Andrew quickly pushed the snobby students aside and reached for the sketchbook.  
  
It was heavy in his hand,  
and weighed heavy on his mind as he paid for it at the counter.  
  
Before Kevin and Nicky could spot him, he went outside to his car and put the sketchbook underneath his seat.  
  
Then, Andrew pulled a cigarette out of his jacket, and watched the smoke disappear in the air as he waited for the others to get back.  
  
x  
  
The sun was setting.    
  
Andrew watched its blaringly orange rays through the windows  
and could only see Neil Josten’s auburn hair in the sun.  
  
Irritated, he pushed himself to his feet and walked towards the door. Immediately, Kevin’s insistent typing stopped.  
  
Then came the question.  
  
‘Where are you going? Your camera is here.’  
  
Andrew grabbed his car keys from the counter, and wrenched the door open.    
  
‘Not everything is about art,’ he said boredly, before slamming the door behind him, just because he could.  
  
x  
  
It was like the world had exploded  
and everything was orange,  
Andrew thought,  
annoyed.  
  
The sky was bleeding the university’s colours, orange paint dripping down onto the lone figure sitting at the edge of the roof.  
  
It was a fucking metaphor  
and still Andrew stepped onto the ledge, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.  
  
It wasn’t until the cigarette smoke was muting all the colours that Neil Josten spoke up.  
  
‘Why are you here?’  
  
Andrew took a drag of his cigarette.  
  
‘That’s what we’re all trying to figure out, isn’t it.’  
  
There was no laugh from Neil.  
Good.   
It hadn’t been a joke.  
  
When the cigarette was all burned up, Andrew let it fall over the edge  
and watched it disappear.  
  
Then he took the sketchbook from his bag and let it fall on Neil’s lap.    
Neil startled, the sketchbook wobbling and nearly sliding off his legs, but Neil caught it just in time.  
  
Andrew dragged his eyes back to the sky,  
to watch the colour seep out of the world.  
To not watch Neil Josten.  
  
‘...What?’ Neil asked, after a few moments.  
  
But he could see perfectly well what it was, so Andrew didn’t respond.  
  
For a moment, the evening was filled with the sound of pages being turned,   
of hands dragging over blankness and emptiness.   
The sound of Neil’s confusion.  
  
‘You’re giving this to me? Why?’  
  
‘It’s good for ink and paint,’ Andrew replied.  
  
‘You know I don’t work with those.’  
  
Andrew reached inside his pocket for another cigarette. Holding it between his lips, he flicked on his lighter and-  
  
‘I don’t have anything to give to you.’  
  
The end of the cigarette burned.  
Andrew took it between his fingers before turning to look at Neil.  
  
‘Don’t be boring,’ he said.  
  
Neil’s blue eyes stared up at him,  
defiant and confused.  
  
‘How can I be,’ he said, ‘when I’m all that gives you inspiration.’  
  
Dropping his cigarette on the ground, Andrew crushed it beneath his boot before grabbing Neil by his hoodie and dragging him to his feet.    
  
Their faces were close  
and Andrew felt an almost uncontrollable urge to  _ touch _ .   
To feel.   
  
He couldn’t.  
He shouldn’t.  
no.  
  
‘I don’t need you to take good shots,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘But you need me to make art,’ Neil replied, staring straight at him.  
  
There was no fear or frustration in his eyes.  
But there was doubt.  
  
Andrew wondered if Neil was thinking about pushing  
or pulling.  
  
Either way, they’d both fall over the edge.  
  
Without a word, Andrew released Neil’s hoodie, and started for the door.  
  
x  
  
‘Do you think calling the exhibition ‘not only blatant pornography, but the free, 140 pixel kind’ is too flowery?’ Kevin asked, looking up from his laptop.  
  
‘No, it’s clear what you mean,’ Andrew answered.  
  
‘How can you be so rude to these hard-working people?’ Nicky complained, stuffing another mouthful of cereal in his mouth. ‘What if Andrew gets an exhibition? Are you gonna be rude to him too?’  
  
‘If his exhibition is shit, yes,’ Kevin replied.  
  
‘I don’t want an exhibition,’ Andrew said.  
  
Nicky sighed.  
  
x  
  
[From: Lee Hall]

Andrew,  
  
The Sweetwine Art Center plans to open in a month. They need artists for their opening night. I showed them your photos, and Mr. Josten’s sketches, and they’d be willing to work with you.    
  
[Noah Sweetwine ( _ n.sweetwine@sweetwineart.com _ )]   
  
Don’t waste this opportunity.     
  
_ Kind regards, _ _  
_ _ Professor L. D. Hall  
_ _  
_ Hall called not doing the show a waste of opportunity. As Andrew closed his laptop boredly, he wondered if that was true.    
  
So many things nowadays seemed like a waste.  
Like his inability to take photos that rattled him.  
  
Students were walking past him, chatting about boring shit, as classes were over for the day. Just as Andrew left the classroom, he was stopped by Aaron.  
  
Aaron rarely came to the art building.  
  
‘Hey, can I talk to you?’ he asked.  
  
‘Already doing that, aren’t you,’ Andrew answered, but he entered the classroom again and leaned against one of the desks.  
  
‘I was offered an important internship,’ Aaron said.  
  
Andrew didn’t know if he expected a congratulations.  
  
‘It’s in Canada, and I don’t have enough money to go.’  
  
Apparently not.  
  
‘What a wasted opportunity,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘I can’t let it be wasted. I  _ need _ that internship, it’ll set me apart from the rest. Can you loan me the money?’  
  
Being difficult didn’t even cross Andrew’s mind.  
  
‘How much?’ he asked.  
  
‘Twenty thousand. Give or take.’  
  
‘I don’t have that.’  
  
‘So you don’t want me to go?’  
  
Andrew observed his brother’s nearly identical face.  
  
After a while, Aaron started fidgeting and looked away.  
Good.  
It didn’t mean shit that they shared DNA, Andrew told himself. Because if Aaron thought he cared, he could ask Andrew for twenty thousand dollars and actually think Andrew would go out of his way to get it.  
  
‘I know you can get it,’ Aaron said, irritated. ‘I thought you’d like it if I was gone for six months.’  
  
‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you making assumptions is dangerous?’  
  
Aaron glared at him.  
  
‘Then make a deal with me or something. Ask me for shit.’  
  
‘There’s nothing I want,’ Andrew said, moving to his feet.  
  
x  
  
The sky was grey and dark.  
The street was empty.  
  
Andrew’s mind was empty too. Fiddling with the straps of his camera, he looked at the world with blank eyes.    
  
There was nothing interesting here.  
Here being a park in the near vicinity of the university.  
  
Yet so little people seemed to know about it.  
  
Nicky had asked him where he was always going whenever he was stuck, but when Andrew had told him the name, Nicky had given him a blank stare.  
  
The park was grey, and dark.    
And empty,  
except for a dark figure lying on a park bench.   
  
Homeless.  
  
When Andrew moved closer and spotted auburn hair and scarred hands, the term nearly made him laugh.  
  
He moved to kick the figure awake, but Neil Josten dodged before he could hit him, already alert and awake.    
  
Good.   
He needed to be if he was sleeping outside.  
  
‘This is not the dorm,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘What?’ Neil asked, feigning confusion. ‘I must be lost then.’  
  
‘Finally, he speaks the truth.’  
  
Neil glared at him, blue eyes dark in the shadows of his hoodie.  
  
‘What are you doing in my bedroom?’  
  
Oh fantastic, Neil was actually rolling with the joke.  
  
‘Always great when someone laughs in the face of adversity,’ Andrew said flatly. ‘What are you doing here, Josten?’  
  
Neil opened his mouth, and for a moment, Andrew could already see the lie tumbling out of his mouth like a comic book character.  
  
But then Neil seemed to change his mind,  
and that was interesting.  
  
‘I can’t pay for the dorms.’  
  
‘Daddy didn’t leave you enough money?’  


Something tightened in Neil’s face.  
It was fear so raw,  
even Kevin wouldn’t call it processed.  
  
Andrew watched the filter flicker on and off on Neil’s face as he fought hard to conceal his thoughts.    
Like a broken battery.    
  
But Neil somehow found the energy to burn through his lies for a few more moments.  
  
‘I don’t want to use my card. It’s on my own name,’ he admitted uncomfortably.  
  
Though not unexpected,  
it was still interesting.   
  
Andrew leaned forward,  
leaned all into Neil’s personal space  
and pulled back his hoodie.    
  
The world was instantly filled with blue.  
  
‘Hiding from daddy, are we?’  
  
‘Shut up,’ Neil snapped back. ‘Why do you care?’  
  
‘I don’t,’ Andrew replied. He didn’t.  _ He didn’t. _ ‘I can get you a dorm at the university.’  
  
_ Fuck _ .  
  
‘Really?’ Neil asked skeptically. ‘What do I have to do in return?’  
  
Oh, Neil.    
So little trust.  
So smart.  
  
Everything in Andrew wanted to tip over the edge  
and  _ fall _ .  
  
Everything in him wanted to grip Neil Josten’s auburn hair tightly in his fist  
and kiss the interesting out of him.  
  
‘Do an exhibition with me,’ Andrew said instead.  


‘Do I need to use ink?’  
  
Andrew leaned back,  
and once again, his world was grey.  
  
‘Look at that. He’s learning already,’ he replied.  
  
x  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; ‘I don’t take selfies.’
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING AGAIN <3 <3 I'm so happy you're all seeming to enjoy this, thank you so much ;u;  
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, if you want!
> 
> OH and I'm a little stuck, so if you have an idea for a cool assignment for the artsy bois, please tell me! :D (which you can also do on tumblr, idnis.tumblr.com is moi)
> 
> (also yes. I did put Noah in from "I'll give you the sun" because I'm still in love with that book)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> It's the first day of Pride in the Netherlands! I dunno about the rest of the world, but,,, Happy Pride! <3   
> You're all beautiful as you are <3
> 
> Enjoy reading!

Even Kevin’s reluctance during surrealism week couldn’t match Andrew’s feelings as he opened his mail.

[From: Andrew Minyard]  
  
Mr. Sweetwine,

I’m willing to do the exhibition with Neil Josten.  
  
Andrew Minyard  
  
x  
  
‘ _ So _ excited about your decision, Andrew,’ Professor Hall said. ‘I knew you’d come to see what a great opportunity this would be for you.’

There was the word again.  
Opportunity.  
Something that could be wasted.  
  
Andrew just continued packing his bag.

‘Of course, I think you should hand in your first few pieces together with Mister Josten. They’re phenomenal.’  
  
That had been the plan, yes.  
  
Andrew started for the door.  
  
‘But don’t forget your assignments for school, okay?’ Hall called after him. ‘I can give you a few extra days, but I don’t want to play favourites.’

In response, Andrew held up his hand, eager to get out the door and avoid the next question.  
  
But it was still slung at his head like wet clay.  
Like that one time Kevin tried sculpting and had gotten tired of Andrew’s comments.

‘Already have any ideas for the new assignment?’

No.  
  
x  
  
_ Distance _ .

The word echoed through Andrew’s mind as he made his way to the Health and Science building.  
  
How was he going to photograph distance?  
  
He found Aaron eating lunch with a few others. If he was holding the hand of the girl next to him, Andrew chose not to notice.  
  
As soon as Aaron spotted him, he quickly moved to his feet,  
removed his hand,  
and walked over to Andrew.

‘Yeah?’  
  
‘I want your dorm room,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘What? What do you need that for?’  
  
‘Congratulations,’ Andrew simply said. ‘Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal.’  
  
It took Aaron longer than Andrew had hoped to catch on, but when he did, a tentative smile spread on his face.  
  
It was weird.  
  
_ Distance _ .  
Giving his identical twin enough money to go to another country for over half a year.  
  
_ Distance _ .  
Not recognizing that smile.

‘Thanks,’ Aaron said. ‘I’ll get you the key next week.’  
  
x  
  
During dinner, Nicky harassed Andrew about his newest assignment.   
  
Ever since Neil Josten claimed the fucking sun _and_ Andrew’s inspiration,   
Nicky seemed a lot more interested in Andrew’s photos.  
  
‘It’s distance,’ Andrew answered.  
  
‘Have you thought of a photo yet? Maybe you could-’   
  
‘No.’  
  
‘I haven’t even told you my idea!’  
  
‘I don’t have an idea yet.’  
  
‘Just take a photo of your face,’ Kevin said, taking a sip of his water to swallow down the disgusting mess that he called _healthy food_.   
  
‘Kevin, that’s so rude,’ Nicky said, disapprovingly.  
  
‘What? Why?’ Kevin asked. ‘There’s nothing in his eyes.’  
  
At this, Nicky looked uncomfortably at Andrew.  
  
‘Um.’  
  
x  
  
It wasn’t often that Andrew opened the can of worms that was his life.  
  
Or maybe a better title would be  
 _Wasted opportunities_.  
  
Of course, Neil fucking Josten found him on the roof.   
  
‘Go away,’ Andrew said. ‘I need to think.’  
  
‘Do you ever stop then?’ Neil asked, sitting down in front of him without fucking asking.  
  
Still.  
  
‘Touché,’ Andrew replied, tipping his head back until it touched the wall behind him.  
He didn’t want to look into Neil’s too blue eyes.  
  
The edge of the roof was so far away.   
Was that distance?  
  
‘What’s your assignment this week?’ Neil asked.  
  
The question was eerily on point.  
  
It made Andrew wonder if perhaps   
Neil could also see the things that made up something.  
What made a photo work.  
Or more accurately, what didn’t work.  
  
‘Distance,’ Andrew said.  
  
Neil was quiet for a moment.   
  
‘You shouldn’t take a photo of anyone else.’  
  
Andrew looked at him.  
  
‘For the assignment,’ Neil clarified. Though he didn’t have to. Andrew had understood. ‘I think you should take a photo of yourself.’  
  
‘I don’t take selfies.’  
  
‘Then don’t take a selfie,’ Neil replied.   
  
There was something he wasn’t saying.  
An answer he was keeping from Andrew.  
  
‘What?’ Andrew finally asked.  
  
Neil scooted closer,  
and that was a first.   
  
His legs were framing Andrew’s own,  
and then Neil Josten reached out his pretty artist hands, resting them above Andrew’s arms,   
and asked,  
‘Can I?’  
  
No.  
  
Andrew calmly investigated his first response,  
and came to the conclusion that it was only a boring instinct.   
  
So he said,  
‘Yes.’  
  
Neil took hold of his armbands and started pulling them down.  
  
A shiver went down Andrew’s spine  
at the hint of touching;  
just a fingertip  
along his naked arms.  
  
His thoughts were jumbled  
and then extremely focused as Neil put away the armbands and turned Andrew’s arms so the scars were there for the entire sky to see.  
  
Neil was quiet for a while.  
  
Andrew looked up at him, wanting to gauge Neil’s reaction, but to his surprise  
Neil was looking at him.  
  
‘Did they give you distance?’ Neil asked.  
  
How the fuck did he know.  
  
‘Let me go,’ Andrew said.  
  
Neil did,  
hands falling onto his own legs.  
  
‘Are you too afraid to photograph this?’  
  
Was he?  
  
‘I can’t take the photo,’ Andrew replied.   
  
It was not an answer.  
  
Neil knew this, because without asking, he reached into Andrew’s backpack and pulled out his camera.  
  
He held it up.  
  
‘I can take the photo. You decide what to do with it.’  
  
‘I’m not going to sketch for you,’ Andrew said.  
  
Neil’s voice was soft,  
but his words were softer.  
  
‘No, you’re doing so much more.’  
  
Before Neil could take the photo,   
Andrew quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him down.   
  
Neil landed harshly on his knees, but Andrew wasn’t interested in his discomfort. Besides, this wasn’t the worst that Neil had suffered.  
  
Andrew looked at the scars on the back of Neil’s hands  
and then at the scars in his blue, blue, blue eyes.  
  
‘Tell me,’ he said.  
  
‘My father,’ Neil whispered.   
  
‘Why?’  
  
‘To teach me a lesson.’  
  
‘Did he succeed?’  
  
It took Neil long to answer.  
Andrew could feel Neil’s heartbeat pounding underneath his fingertips.  
  
‘No,’ Neil replied eventually.  
  
‘Good.’  
  
x  
  
Neil traced the white lines criss-crossing over Andrew’s bare forearms.   
  
His touch was warm  
and made Andrew feel cold all over.  
  
As he looked into Neil’s blue eyes,  
he felt his words wash over him.  
  
‘Did they give you distance?’  
  
Andrew’s voice sounded hoarse when he replied,  
‘I don’t want to answer that.’  
  
Neil accepted this, continuing his soft, tortuous journey over Andrew’s arms, sending shivers through his body.  
  
‘Okay,’ Neil said softly. ‘What is it you want?’  
  
The answer was easy.  
  
‘I want to kiss you,’ Andrew said. ‘Can I?’  
  
Neil looked down at their hands. He was tracing Andrew’s wrist with his fingertips. Very carefully. Like he was afraid he’d leave more lines.  
  
Andrew wouldn’t mind Neil leaving a mark.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Neil said. ‘You can.’  
  
But Andrew woke the fuck up   
before he could kiss Neil Josten.  
  
He sat up in bed.  
  
If his breathing was a little faster, he was _not_ going to focus on that.   
  
What the fuck had that been?  
He wouldn’t mind Neil leaving a mark?   
  
That.   
That was dangerous.  
  
Andrew wasn’t sure he _wanted_ Neil Josten to leave a mark,   
something permanent,  
but he knew it wasn’t really a matter of choice anymore.  
  
Just like the edge of a roof,  
Andrew was fascinated by Neil,  
his antagonistic attitude  
and his need to claim things for himself.  
  
Like the fucking sun for example.  
  
x  
  
Sitting on the steps to the cafeteria, Andrew used one of his more expensive lenses to zoom in on Aaron’s back.   
  
Again, he was sitting with a few students Andrew recognized from last time.  
Again, his hand was holding that of a girl with a high, blonde ponytail.   
  
When Andrew took the shot  
even he could feel the _distance_.  
  
x  
  
The silence that followed when Nicky looked at the photograph was annoying.  
  
Andrew almost regretted submitting it.  
  
He could already hear the questions,   
could already see Nicky thinking about why Andrew had taken a picture of his brother and called it _Distance_.  
  
Well.   
The why was obvious.  
  
They were like an art piece with different colour schemes.  
Looking the same  
but telling different stories.  
  
x  
  
Before Andrew could even reach for the handle,   
the door already opened  
and Neil Josten walked out, followed by Bee’s cheery voice.  
  
‘Good day to you, Mister Josten!’  
  
Andrew was not ready to meet Neil’s impassive, blue eyes.  
  
‘Oh!’ Bee’s head popped up from inside her office. ‘Andrew, hello! You’re right on time.’   
  
‘Hi, Bee,’ Andrew said, then immediately turned his attention to Neil. ‘What are you doing here?’  
  
Neil refused to meet Andrew’s eyes.   
  
‘Can I go?’ he asked Bee shortly, adjusting his backpack.  
  
‘Yes, of course,’ she answered.  
  
Neil made to move past them, but Andrew held out a hand and stopped him.  
He didn’t say anything, just stared at Neil’s seemingly impassive face before Neil finally, reluctantly, dragged his gaze over to Andrew.  
  
They stared at each other in silence.  
  
The words  
 _Yeah  
_ _You can  
_ echoed through Andrew’s mind  
and made his fingers itch for his knives,  
but then Neil broke the silence.  
  
‘Not here.’  
  
Accepting the promise, Andrew gladly dropped his hand and let Neil walk past him.   
  
‘You know each other?’ Bee asked, looking curiously at him.   
  
It didn’t match up.   
Neil Josten would never visit a psychologist.  
So why?  
  
‘Apparently not,’ Andrew said.  
  
x  
  
Sitting on _his_ couch, and playing on _his_ PlayStation with Nicky,   
was Aaron.  
  
God, Andrew sounded just like Neil.  
  
‘That’s an imposter,’ Andrew said to Nicky, opening their snack cupboard and starting to load his bag with chocolate and sweets.  
  
‘Ha ha,’ Aaron said. ‘I came to give you the key.’   
  
‘And then he practically begged me to play a game,’ Nicky said.  
  
‘I didn’t,’ Aaron said.  
  
Andrew believed him.  
He zipped up his bag, took Aaron’s key from their kitchen table and headed out the door.   
  
While he walked up the stairs towards the roof, his fingers pressed into the ragged edges of the key.   
  
Something permanent.  
  
When he opened the door, he could see Neil sitting on the edge of the roof, hunched over his sketchbook probably.  
  
It would be so, so easy  
to push him  
and be rid of this slow free fall.  
  
This torture.  
  
But then Neil suddenly turned around,   
the wind picking up strands of his auburn hair,   
his eyes picking up all of Andrew’s broken pieces.  
  
‘Afraid?’ Neil asked.  
  
Andrew knew he meant the roof  
the edge  
the height.  
  
‘It’s dangerous,’ Andrew said, slowly moving closer.   
  
Neil’s blue eyes followed him as he sat down next to him  
and swung his legs over the edge.   
  
His feet weren’t touching the ground.  
  
‘But no,’ Andrew said, looking Neil Josten straight in the eyes. ‘Not afraid.’  
  
‘I am,’ Neil answered quietly. ‘You said I could live in the dorms here, but-’  
  
Andrew held the key between his fingers,  
jagged edges visible for the world,  
and then dangled it over the edge of the roof.  
  
He heard Neil’s breath catch beside him.  
  
Finally he knew what that was like.  
  
‘Yes or no, Neil?’ Andrew asked.  
  
Neil’s eyes darted to the key.  
  
The quiet lasted too fucking long.  
  
‘Why were you with Bee?’ Andrew asked.  
  
‘The teacher made me,’ Neil said. ‘They thought my art was… concerning.’  
  
Andrew let the key slip under and over his fingers like he’d done so often with his cigarettes. He saw Neil watching the movement intensely, almost anxiously.  
  
‘I drew my hands,’ Neil confessed.   
  
Andrew’s hand stilled.   
  
‘What?’   
  
He’d seen the way Neil hid the back of his hands with those big shirts and sweaters he was always wearing.  
  
He had also seen how the back of Neil’s hands looked.  
  
They said an artist’s tools weren’t their pencils or paints,  
but their hands.  
  
If that was true, then Neil had taken shit care of his.   
  
Deformed in places by scars,  
it looked like Neil had put his hands into the fire  
just to check if they would burn.  
  
Just to see if the damage would stay on him permanently.  
  
‘After I saw your arms-’ Neil started.  
  
No.  
  
Andrew clasped his free hand over Neil’s mouth, shutting him the fuck up. They were _not_ revisiting that.   
  
‘Don’t pity me,’ Andrew warned him in a low voice. He saw in Neil’s eyes that he wanted to argue. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m not your inspiration, and you sure as fuck aren’t mine.’  
  
Neil wasn’t.  
He _wasn’t.  
_ He was-  
  
He was waiting.  
Neil Josten was waiting patiently for Andrew to remove his hand, instead of doing it himself.  
  
It made Andrew pull back his hands like they’d been burned too.  
  
His heart was beating wildly in his chest.   
Dangerous.  
  
‘Can I have the key?’ Neil asked, holding out his hand.  
  
With more anger than he’d meant to, Andrew pressed it in Neil’s hand.  
  
‘It’s _yours_ ,’ he said mockingly.   
  
The hitch in Neil’s breathing was painful.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; We need to talk about the exhibition.
> 
> I hope you're all still liking it!! Thank you so much for reading, and for your suggestions for assignments last chapter! :D I think I've found a few good ones to use ! 
> 
> And let me know what you thought of this chapter, if you want :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> I walked home in the dark yesterday and I saw a hedgehog!!  
> it was so tiny  
> and so fast
> 
> Talking about tiny and fast things, let's see how Neil's doing.  
> Enjoy!

Andrew lasted a week.  
  
A week before he opened his mail.  
  
[From: Andrew Minyard]  
We need to talk about the exhibition.  
  
The answer came later in the afternoon.  
Andrew had almost drifted off to sleep.  
  
[From: Neil Josten]  
Sure. You can come to my room.  
  
_His_ room.  
  
[From: Andrew Minyard]  
5 minutes.  
  
x  
  
After knocking, the door was opened by a big guy with a big smile.  
Great.  
  
‘You must be here for Neil.’  
  
‘Must be,’ Andrew said. ‘He has so many friends.’  
  
The guy gave him a weird look before stepping aside and letting Andrew in.  
  
He held out his hand, but Andrew neatly sidestepped that.  
  
‘Uh, okay. So... The name’s Matt Boyd.’  
  
Who the fuck cared?  
  
The door to their right opened, and Neil appeared in another one of his atrocious shirts.  
  
‘Andrew,’ he said by way of greeting.  
  
Andrew greeted him back by pushing him out of the way and entering Neil’s room.  
  
It was mostly bare.  
But two things grabbed Andrew’s interest.  
  
The open sketchbook on his desk  
and the easel in the corner of the room near the window.  
  
‘What’s that?’ Andrew asked, pointing at the easel.  
  
‘A pipe dream,’ Neil answered.  
  
‘Why?’  
  
‘Paintings get too much attention.’  
  
And rightfully so, Kevin would argue.  
  
‘Such a martyr,’ Andrew said boredly, walking to the desk. ‘Keeping your dreams in a corner of your room.’  
  
He reached out to get the sketchbook, but Neil was faster than he’d expected and grabbed it, holding it casually behind his back.  
  
What were they, children?  
  
Leaning against the desk, Andrew stared at Neil.  
  
The silence that followed lasted impressively long.  
  
‘So did you have anything in mind for the exhibition?’ Neil asked eventually.  
  
‘Could do a theme.’  
  
‘Life doesn’t have a theme. Why should our art?’  
  
As if Neil’s life wasn’t made up of the chapters   
Anxious   
Fleeting   
and Afraid,  
with a nice introduction called ‘Childhood Trauma’.  
  
At least the cover art would be decent.  
  
Andrew hummed as he pulled a cigarette from his back pocket.  
  
‘You can’t smoke here,’ Neil pointed out.  
  
‘And you can’t build your life on lies,’ Andrew said boredly before lighting his cigarette.  
  
The smoke burned through his throat  
like the truth about his feelings.  
  
So he blew them all away.  
  
‘I don’t-’ Neil caught himself on the lie. ‘I’ve told you the most honest version I could.’  
  
Time to test that theory.  
  
‘The scars,’ Andrew said. ‘What happened?’  
  
‘My father.’  
  
‘He missed the coffee mug?’  
  
Neil swallowed  
and Andrew could tell he was trying his best not to look away.  
  
‘He missed certain qualities in me,’ Neil said in a tight voice.  
  
‘Not a fan of the arts.’  
  
‘Quite the opposite.’  
  
Hm. Interesting.  
  
‘Are you?’ Andrew asked.  
  
‘What?’  
  
During the conversation, Neil had started lowering the sketchbook.  
Andrew reached for it again,  
his fingers brushing the cover before Neil quickly drew back his arm.  
  
Andrew stared at Neil in slight amusement.  
  
‘Why do you draw, Neil?’  
  
‘Oh,’ Neil said in surprise.   
  
Leaning back, Andrew took the final drag of his cigarette  
and blew out the smoke in Neil’s face.   
  
It did nothing to mute the awful colour of Neil’s truth.  
  
‘Because I can tell the truth with my art.’  
  
And then the fire alarm started ringing.  
  
x  
  
The big man called Matt Boyd burst into the room with a look that nearly equalled Munch’s _the scream_ .  
  
‘Where’s the fire?!’ he exclaimed in a panic. Stupid, because if he simply looked around, he would see there was no fire.  
  
Neil pointed to Andrew.  
  
‘He smoked inside.’  
  
Andrew raised an eyebrow.  
  
‘So much for loyalty, Josten.’  
  
Neil gave him a blank look.  
  
‘What’s the point?’  
  
Of loyalty?  
  
Oh, Andrew had not expected Neil to be this much of a mess.  
  
Meanwhile, Big Man Boyd looked confused.   
But at least he had established there was no fire.  
  
‘There’s no point to art either,’ Andrew said, moving past them both to the door. ‘Yet here we are anyway.’  
  
‘What about the exhibition?’ Neil asked.  
  
‘Next Saturday,’ was Andrew’s answer.  
  
The guy who didn’t believe in loyalty  
simply nodded in return.  
  
x  
  
Before class started, Andrew’s phone buzzed.  
  
[Aaron]  
Arrived safely. Don’t know what you hate about flying.  
  
[Andrew]   
Good.  
  
[Aaron]  
I’ll give you the phone numbers of my internship tomorrow.   
  
Andrew pocketed his phone again.   
  
Perhaps Neil had a point.  
  
This, whatever Aaron and Andrew had, wasn’t loyalty. It was an understanding, a fake relationship built on promises.  
  
It was a family photo,  
titled _friends_ .  
  
It just didn’t really add up.  
  
Yet for some reason, Neil Josten _did_ .   
  
It was because Andrew could see the individual brush strokes that painted Neil’s eyes, his face, his hidden hands.  
  
If only he could see the whole painting.  
  
If only?  
  
‘And that is why,’ Hall continued excitedly. ‘We’ve decided on this fantastic theme. It’s called _understanding_ , and we want you to challenge yourselves the next two weeks by creating art using media you normally never use.’   
  
Great.  
  
x  
  
It was quiet in the cafeteria today,  
but still Andrew walked towards the picnic bench outside.  
  
Peeking out from under the table were two worn out sneakers.   
  
How fucking hilarious.   
His inspiration was underneath a picnic bench.   
Ha. Ha.  
  
But before Andrew reached Neil  
and crossed the line he’d drawn in the sand,  
Nicky ran towards him with an excited look on his face.   
  
Today was apparently an exciting day for people.  
  
‘Andrew!’ Nicky exclaimed. ‘There’s a fair in town. Did you know?’   
  
‘Yes.’  
  
‘We should go! You could throw some knives at targets again and win me big plushies in lieu of Erik, my wonderful boyfriend.’  
  
‘No.’  
  
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the worn-out sneakers were moving.  
  
‘Whaaat? Why not? I thought you endured fairs because there’s lots of candy.’  
  
More like the pictures were good.  
Lots of squeaky, unreliable equipment  
bound to break.   
  
Lots of screaming faces  
tiptoeing the line between fear and fun.  
  
‘Oh!’ Nicky said suddenly. ‘Neil!’  
  
Andrew looked to the picnic bench and sure enough, the sneakers were gone  
and the guy himself was trying to sneak away.   
  
Little did he know it was impossible to hide from Nicky when he wanted something.  
  
Neil froze at the sound of his name,  
then reluctantly turned around.  
  
‘You like fairs right?’ Nicky ask-shouted. ‘Come join us!’  
  
Nicky’s loud voice attracted stares,  
and Andrew saw the discomfort on Neil’s face as clearly as if he was a target  
while Andrew was holding a knife in his hand.  
  
Neil shook his head.  
  
‘No.’  
  
‘What? You don’t like ‘em either? Man, what _is_ it with you tw-’  
  
‘Drop it,’ Andrew said.  
  
There was  
nothing  
between them.  
  
x  
  
Andrew knocked on the door at eight pm.  
  
It was immediately opened by Neil  
who looked angry.  
  
‘Took you long enough,’ he said, irritated.  
  
Andrew tilted his head  
and watched the emotion on Neil’s face.  
  
The emotion he had put there.  
  
‘Could’ve asked me the time, Josten.’  
  
‘You could’ve told me.’  
  
‘I don’t tell everything just like that.’  
  
‘Because you’ll tell me the truth?’   
  
The anger was gone on Neil’s face,  
replaced by something much more dangerous.  
  
‘Let’s go,’ Andrew said.  
  
Neil leaned back, grabbed his bag and followed Andrew out of the door.  
Just like that.  
  
‘Doesn’t believe in loyalty, but believes in trust,’ Andrew mused, walking down the stairs.  
  
‘I don’t,’ Neil said.  
  
Andrew shot him a pointed look.  
  
‘Do you know where we’re going?’  
  
‘The fair,’ Neil answered easily.  
  
Andrew didn’t know if he was annoyed or amused  
so he settled for nothing  
as always  
and they made their way to his car in silence.  
  
x  
  
Neon lights,  
fake colours,  
and sugar induced smiles.  
  
The fair was overwhelming and yet.   
  
Yet, when Andrew sneaked a look at Neil,  
he was like a lens with a fixed focal point.  
  
Everything,  
the people, the neon lights, the artificial smells so strong you could nearly see them,  
was blurry  
except for Neil.  
  
Anger coursing through him, Andrew took another path  
and instantly came face to face with inspiration.  
  
He halted. Behind him, Neil sucked in a breath.  
  
‘Ready for the ride?’ Andrew asked,  
before walking to the booth for the Mirror Madness.  
  
x  
  
As expected, mirrors were everywhere.   
  
Looking up, Andrew could see himself walking through the maze,  
because even on the ceiling there were mirrors.  
  
Where the fair had shouted at them  
the mirror maze was quiet and subdued.   
  
Honest.  
  
For someone who painted themselves in lies,  
it was like taking a shower in paint stripper.   
  
Neil Josten looked uncomfortable from every angle.   
  
Andrew didn’t know why he’d made the decision to strip away the lies to uncover the true painting underneath,  
because there was no promise it was going to be art.   
  
Sometimes another painting was drawn over an already existing one  
because the first one had been shit.   
  
Yet Andrew wanted to douze Neil in alcohol and burn all the bullshit away.  
  
If Neil would burn with it, that would only be an added bonus.  
  
‘Is this your version of a joke?’ Neil asked, as he followed Andrew deeper into the maze.  
  
Walking to a corner, Andrew observed its angles and deemed it good enough. He grabbed Neil’s hoodie in his fist  
and shoved him into the corner.   
  
Neil’s back hit the mirror with a soft _thump_ .  
  
‘This is my version of art,’ Andrew answered, taking out his camera.  
  
Neil tilted his head to the side.  
  
‘I’m not art.’  
  
Andrew needed to move back for the shot.  
Instead, like a weak human being, he moved closer. Into Neil’s space.   
  
‘Art,’ Andrew started, voice low, ‘is the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination.’  
  
He expected a snide comment in return, because Neil also liked to _own_ the conversation, but to his mild surprise, Neil was merely watching him silently.  
  
‘And you,’ Andrew continued, moving just a little closer, just because he could―   
because he fucking wanted to.  
  
Neil’s pupils dilated,  
the movement repeated in every mirror  
from every angle  
so Andrew couldn’t miss it even if he hadn’t been sucked into the blue like a colourblind moth.  
  
‘You have so much “imagination” it’s dripping off your face and bleeding into my photos.’  
  
‘I don’t-’  
  
‘Lying, Neil. You’re made up of lies.’ Andrew forced himself to move back and grab his camera. He steadied the shot and already felt the quickening of his pulse, shooting through his wrist and fingers while he adjusted the lens. ‘But you’re made of more than that. You’re made of daddy issues and an attraction to temporariness, yet you claim everything as your own in a mad attempt to have something last.’  
  
Neil swallowed.   
  
Andrew watched his adam’s apple move  
and wanted to kiss it.  
  
But then panic flashed white hot through Neil’s blue eyes,  
just like the camera  
when Andrew took the shot.  
  
Of course he had to take the shot again without the flash, but the overexposure  
and panic  
were so real that Andrew knew he’d pick that one.  
  
He’d pick real over fake any day.  
  
‘You act uninterested,’ Neil said suddenly, claiming Andrew’s attention again. ‘But you’re not. Not entirely. You took me to this annoying place just to get a good photo.’  
  
‘I need the exhibition,’ Andrew said, hating the shade in Neil’s eyes right now. He looked down at his camera to check if the shots were good enough.  
  
Neil pushed himself off the mirror  
and moved closer.   
  
‘You can’t expect to be in a mirror maze and not see yourself,’ he said.  
  
Annoyingly,  
it was the truth for once.  
  
x  
  
The sky was dark.   
The fair was anything but.   
  
It was annoying.   
  
Flashing lights and music meant to deafen your common sense aside, there were so many people crawling through the streets, pushing against him, that Andrew felt his skin start to crawl and itch.  
  
His fingers wanted to reach for his knives.  
  
‘Let’s go on the ferris wheel.’  
  
Neil’s voice suddenly cut through the noise.  
  
He was a dark spot in a sea of colours,  
the quiet Andrew’s eyes had needed.  
  
‘We’re leaving,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights,’ Neil said jokingly.   
  
But Andrew was not in the mood for jokes.  
  
He continued shouldering past people with more aggression than the situation needed, but he really didn’t fucking care.  
  
‘It’ll make for an interesting photo,’ Neil continued, walking quicker to keep up with him. ‘You’d have two photos in one night.’  
  
Andrew stopped walking.   
  
He looked at the burningly bright  
hot pink ferris wheel  
going around in a never ending circle until   
you decided to jump off.  
  
Hm.  
Bad thought.  
  
‘Tell me one truth,’ Andrew said.  
  
He was prepared for more angst  
for more drama or panic or whatever other shade of anxiety and trauma Neil decided to show.  
  
What he hadn’t expected was,  
‘I like you taking photos of me.’

Andrew’s head snapped around.  
  
Even in the artificial, harsh light  
the softness in Neil’s eyes was real  
and unnerving.  
  
Andrew looked away  
and without another word, started for the ferris wheel.  
  
x  
  
Neil didn’t hesitate.  
He immediately slid next to Andrew, effectively cutting off the only way to the exit.  
  
Fuck, Andrew had known Neil would be the death of him.  
  
With a disturbing groan, the ferris wheel moved forward one slot so the next people could crawl into the uncomfortable seats.  
  
Sitting as still as he possibly could,  
Andrew stared at the couple in front of him and wondered if he could hit them with his knives.   
Probably.  
There was no wind tonight  
and the people weren’t moving so-  
  
‘Why is this different than the roof?’ Neil asked.  
  
‘A roof doesn’t collapse as easily.’  
  
‘Doesn’t it just make the thrill bigger?’  
  
‘That’s why you’re staying at the university?’ Andrew replied, irritated. ‘Finally tired of being nothing?’  
  
The ferris wheel groaned again as it moved up another slot.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Neil answered, barely audible above the loud music. ‘They say great artists must suffer… But I think I’m done suffering now.’  
  
Something sparked inside Andrew’s chest.  
  
It was probably the height  
and the possibility of falling.  
  
It couldn’t possibly be Neil’s words  
and the painful feeling of _understanding_ .  
  
A loud horn sounded, interrupting the silence, and with shocking movements the ferris wheel started moving.   
  
Finally.  
  
And then they were at the top,  
and the world was just a combination of light and dark.  
  
‘Why did you start photographing?’ Neil asked.  
  
Since Neil had already given up so many truths,  
Andrew answered.  
  
‘My mind already photographs everything. With a camera, I’m in control of what gets remembered and what doesn’t.’  
  
Silence.  
  
Andrew knew it didn’t exactly work like that,  
but it came close enough.   
  
He waited for Neil to make a smartass comment about it not working like that, and how sketching was a better way to remember shapes and faces.   
  
But Neil said,  
‘You remember everything.’  
  
It wasn’t a question.  
So Andrew didn’t answer  
and he didn’t tug his armbands down.   
  
They were fine.   
Everything was hidden.  
  
A harsh, cold wind blew,  
and it felt so familiar to the rooftop  
that Andrew let himself relax for a second.  
  
Of course, Neil fucking Josten decided to attack him then.  
  
‘So you want to remember me?’  
  
‘I never-’ Andrew started, then stopped. Before the lie got out.  
  
He averted his eyes from the breath taking view of the city at night time,  
and glared at Neil.  
  
All the lights were reflected in his eyes  
and yet the blue still shone so brightly.  
  
So smugly.   
Asshole.  
  
Andrew reached for his camera.  
  
‘Yes or no?’  
  
A half smile formed on Neil’s lips.   
Half amusement  
half something else.  
  
‘What am I saying yes to?’ he asked.  
  
Andrew was holding a fucking camera in his hand  
and yet he also didn’t know the answer.  
  
‘For once, I wish I could sketch as fast as a camera,’ Neil said, his eyes focused intensely on him.  
  
It jolted Andrew out of his indecisiveness.   
  
‘A camera doesn’t sketch,’ he answered, then peered through the viewfinder.  
  
Neil laughed.

It was a short laugh  
and the first real one.  
  
Andrew’s finger hovered over the button  
but he waited  
until  
  
‘Yes,’ Neil said.  
  
Though there was no laugh,  
trust was painted on his face  
and his lips.  
  
Breath leaving his lungs,  
Andrew captured the moment.  
  
x  
  
The ferris wheel gave a sickening jerk before moving again,  
and Andrew nearly lost his grip on the camera.  
  
‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he hissed under his breath, clinging to his expensive-as-fuck camera.  
  
‘You know,’ Neil said smugly, ‘Pencils and paper are also less-’  
  
‘Shut up.’  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; ‘Why do you keep photographing him?’ Kevin asked.
> 
> why yes  
> i put in another reference to one of my fics  
> im sorry
> 
> THANK YOU! For reading :D I hope it's interesting! Let me know what you thought if you want <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> Today, I took a gamble by ordering a mango&cream icecap. I was expecting my stomach to HURT after, but it didn't!!  
> AND the drink was DELICIOUS. 
> 
> Small victories :D
> 
> Enjoy!

  
Through the door, Andrew could hear that the TV was on.   
  
For fuck’s sake, Andrew thought, as he quickly looked at his phone for the time. It was past midnight now.   
  
Kevin and Nicky were never awake past midnight unless they had deadlines, went out, or were apparently co-parenting Andrew.  
  
Pushing the door open, he saw their faces swivel towards him. Blue and green light was reflected on their faces.  
  
Someone on the tv was breathing heavily.  
One casual look told Andrew they were watching Harry Potter.  
  
‘You wanna watch the end with us?’ Nicky asked.  
  
It was either that, or looking at the photos he’d taken at the fair  
and Andrew wasn’t sure if he was ready to see them.  
  
He sat down on the couch between Kevin and Nicky, and watched as Harry Potter cheated cleverly in Potions class.  
  
‘I don’t know if I would follow the Prince’s scribbles,’ Nicky commented. ‘It _is_ sort of cheating.’  
  
‘It’s taking instructions,’ Kevin said.  
  
‘So you would use the side notes?’  
  
‘Of course.’  
  
‘God, you’re such a Slytherin,’ Nicky said.  
  
‘Harry isn’t,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘Yeah, but he’s like that because there’s still a part of Voldemort in him.’  
  
Not entirely true.  
  
‘People have more than one side to them,’ Andrew said. ‘Having just one label is boring.’  
  
‘As if you wouldn’t be a Slytherin,’ Nicky laughed.   
  
Clever, resourceful, cunning,  
and above all  
preservation?  
  
Andrew didn’t know if he was a Slytherin,  
but Neil Josten surely was.  
  
x  
  
‘Andrew,’ Professor Hall said, leaning one hip against his desk in the standard teacher pose. ‘How’s it going? Just one week left for your assignment.’  
  
‘The exhibition is going perfectly,’ Andrew evaded, and as predicted, Hall’s eyes lit up.  
  
‘Yes? Have you been working together with Mr. Josten?’  
  
Andrew nodded.  
  
‘Fantastic news, Andrew! I’m so glad you’re giving this a shot!’   
  
Was he?  
  
Hall clapped in his hands, from joy apparently, then leaned forward as if he was going to tell Andrew a secret.  
  
‘And don’t be afraid to try something new,’ Hall whispered. ‘Who knows how it’ll turn out?’  
  
‘How about something old?’ Andrew asked flatly.  
  
Did certain things get a second chance?  
  
‘Oh, definitely,’ Hall said. ‘It can always be better.’  
  
He sounded like Kevin.  
  
But Andrew thought about Hall’s confident words.  
  
Could you take a photograph of the same thing, and expect it to be different? Better even?  
  
Could you let yourself fall again  
and expect it not to end with your body splattered across the street?  
  
x  
  
They were watching the seventh Harry Potter movie when someone knocked on their door.  
  
They being Nicky and Andrew, because Kevin was researching different art styles for Hall’s assignment. Which meant he was closest to the door.  
  
Though Neil Josten disappeared behind Kevin’s body,  
his voice didn’t.  
  
‘Is Andrew here?’  
  
‘Yeah, they’re watching movies and neglecting their assignments.’  
  
‘Hey!’ Nicky exclaimed, offended. ‘I already know what I’m gonna do for the assignment.’  
  
Kevin turned around and crossed his arms as he stared Nicky down.  
  
‘Which is?’  
  
‘Photography, obviously.’  
  
Neil slipped into the apartment and asked, ‘Do you also take photos of just one guy?’  
  
‘Yep,’ Nicky answered immediately, smelling the chance to talk about- ‘My boyfriend, his name’s Erik, he’s German by the way, but so, my boyfriend, soon-to-be husband, is very handsome and I’m going to take lots of pictures of his perfect face and everybody will fall in love with him.’  
  
Andrew thought he was safe, but then Nicky’s smug look suddenly disappeared as Neil’s words sunk in. His eyes widened.  
  
‘Wait,’ Nicky said. ‘Did yo-’  
  
‘What are you watching?’ Neil interrupted him, blue eyes finally landing on Andrew.  
  
‘Harry Potter,’ Andrew answered boredly.  
  
‘Oh. I heard of it. It’s about magic, isn’t it?’ Neil said.  
  
This was the wrong thing to say in the presence of Nicky.  
  
‘You don’t know Harry Potter?!’ he screeched.  
  
‘I do,’ Neil said. ‘Just haven’t seen it.’   
  
Neil started moving closer to the couch, but Nicky immediately stumbled for the remote and paused the movie.  
  
‘No!’ he said. ‘You can’t just watch the seventh movie! Spoilers, Neil!’  
  
‘It’s just about some wizards,’ Kevin commented from behind his laptop.  
  
‘No!’ Nicky screeched again. ‘I have already established you’re a heathen, but I will not let Neil be tainted by your total obliviousness to _real_ art!’  
  
This, of course, set Kevin off.  
  
‘ _Real_ art?’ he scoffed. ‘There’s nothing _real_ about Harry Potter. It’s just some fantasy shit.’  
  
Nicky looked so disgusted  
that Andrew wondered if Kevin might actually have to worry about his life.  
  
‘You- You _muggle_!’  
  
Kevin snorted.  
  
‘There’s no such thing as magic. Believing in magic is like believing in love at first sight.’  
  
Flinging the remote away, Nicky angrily stood up on the couch so he could actually look down at Kevin.  
He pointed his finger dramatically at Kevin’s face.  
  
‘You take that back, you robot! Love at first sight exist! My _boyfriend_ -’  
  
‘Oh sure,’ Kevin said. ‘As if you didn’t just fall for his looks.’  
  
‘I didn’t!’ Nicky insisted. ‘I mean, sure, he’s incredibly handsome, it’s like he’s a gift from God, like he’s actually sculpted from the clouds and the ocean, but there was also _something_ _there_. As soon as I looked at him, I didn’t want to look away anymore... I felt something that was _more_ than lust. Ever since that day, he’s caught my attention and hasn’t let go ever since!’  
  
Every word  
smacked  
Andrew in the face.  
  
There was a silence in the room.  
  
Apparently, even Kevin noticed he’d crossed a line.  
  
Just like Neil had.  
Apparently, Neil had crossed a line before Andrew had even drawn it.  
Had caught his attention  
and hasn’t let go  
ever since.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Nicky was breathing heavily.  
When he noticed everyone was staring at him in silence, he quickly ran a hand through his hair and said, ‘So, Neil. What Hogwarts house are you in?’  
  
‘What’s Hogwarts?’ Neil asked, like the boy who lived himself.   
  
‘Oh gosh.’   
  
Nicky quickly sat down and took out his phone to show and explain the world to Neil.  
  
Neil Josten,  
the boy who lied  
the boy who ran  
the boy who pushed Andrew over the fucking ledge and never even promised to catch him.  
  
Andrew forced himself to stand up and make some coffee, trying to drown out Nicky’s voice.  
  
As he waited for the machine to get ready, he noticed Kevin watching him.  
  
‘What,’ he said.  
  
‘Why do you keep photographing him?’ Kevin asked. ‘He’s not that good-looking. Not even interesting looking.’  
  
Andrew pushed the button on the coffee machine. It started groaning loudly while it made coffee.  
  
‘This is why you paint still life,’ Andrew said. ‘Because you don’t understand real life.’  
  
‘As if your photos aren’t still life.’  
  
‘I take photos of real life,’ Andrew replied boredly.  
  
He was not in the mood for this, so when the coffee machine quieted down, Andrew took the cup and the conversation with him.  
  
‘So…’ Nicky said with a grin on his face, as Andrew sat down on the couch’s armrest, being careful not to touch Neil’s arm. ‘What house do you think Andrew belongs to?’  
  
Neil turned to Andrew.  
His arm touched Andrew’s leg  
and then stayed there.  
  
‘Hm,’ Neil said, observing Andrew with blue eyes. Not looking away. Never looking away. Just like Andrew couldn’t. ‘Patient, dedicated, loyal. I think he belongs in Hufflepuff.’  
  
Perhaps  
Andrew hadn’t been the only one with paint stripper.  
  
‘Pssh, what, _no_ ,’ Nicky laughed, surprised. ‘He’s definitely a Slytherin.’  
  
‘No,’ Neil said, still looking Andrew in the eyes. ‘Andrew doesn’t lie or deceive.’  
  
Nicky fell silent.  
  
And for a second, Andrew’s thoughts did too.  
  
It was the most horrible feeling in the world,  
being seen.  
  
Like Neil was-  
No, Neil wasn’t even shooting in RAW.  
He’d thrown away his camera  
and was staring straight at Andrew, no viewfinder between them.  
  
Andrew’s breath caught.  
  
He was falling.  
  
x  
  
Trying to deflect Hall for another four days was highly entertaining and not at all difficult, seeing as Hall knew a lot of students and they apparently _did_ like talking to him, so he got held up whenever Andrew fled the room.  
  
But maybe he should start working on the assignment after all.  
  
Andrew bought lunch, then walked outside to the picnic tables.  
  
It was actually an interesting assignment, working with different tools  
and still trying to create art you were satisfied with.  
  
In a way, Andrew was asking Neil to do the same.  
  
Neil had always worked with lies,  
that much was obvious from the way they spilled from his mouth like air.   
  
And now Andrew was cutting off his airflow,  
and asking him to breathe through his nose for the first time.  
  
Unbidden, the image, the photograph, was already beginning to form in his head, shaped by his thoughts  
when.  
  
Andrew stopped walking.  
  
Someone else was sitting at his table.  
  
Fuck, he sounded like Neil.  
  
The someone had white hair with pastel coloured tips, and when she noticed Andrew’s impassive stare, glanced up and smiled at him.  
  
That wasn’t a reaction a lot of people had.  
  
For a second, Andrew wanted to turn around and ignore her  
but she was still looking at him with a friendly smile  
and something about feeling threatened by that rubbed Andrew the wrong way, so he sat down.  
  
‘Hi,’ she said.  
  
‘This is usually my table,’ Andrew replied.

‘Oh sorry. I hadn’t seen your name on it.’  
  
She said it without a trace of sarcasm or snark  
yet Andrew felt fucking stupid.  
  
‘That’s what I would’ve said too,’ he agreed.  
  
‘Then why’d you say it?’  
  
‘Someone’s influencing me too much.’  
  
She took a bite of her sandwich as she seemed to think about that.  
  
‘Do you know them personally?’  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
‘Then don’t you think the same thing could be true for them too?’  
  
Yes.  
Annoyed, Andrew took a bite of his piece of cake.  
  
The image of his hand covering Neil’s mouth,  
stopping the lies from ever seeing the light of day,  
floated around his mind again.  
  
But how was he going to ask Neil for that photo?  
  
‘I think it’s a good thing,’ the girl said, even though Andrew hadn’t said anything. ‘Learning from each other is always good.’  
  
‘Fuck,’ Andrew said, realizing. ‘That’s why Hall chose this assignment.’  
  
To make him work together with Neil again.  
But.  
Combining Neil’s style with his own?  
  
Was that possible?  
  
Would their colours create something inspiring  
or just a drab brown,  
a dull grey?  
An uninteresting shade that nobody wanted.  
  
Yet the idea was formed in his head  
and as was always the case with inspiration, it wouldn’t leave until he’d made it real.  
  
‘Professor Hall’s nice,’ the girl said quietly. ‘I see him at the center sometimes.’  
  
‘Center?’  
  
‘Yeah. There’s this center for “troubled youths” that I volunteer at. I think he does some work there too.’  
  
Of course.  
Hall telling people to put their fucked-up-ness into finger painting and selfies was just priceless.  
  
‘Anyways, I’m Renee.’  
  
The girl didn’t hold out her hand.  
Another thing a lot of people didn’t do.   
  
It was interesting enough that Andrew answered her.  
  
‘Andrew.’  
  
Renee smiled friendly at him.  
  
‘What do you study, Andrew?’  
  
The shape of Neil’s lips when he isn’t looking.  
  
‘Art,’ he answered shortly.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; "A few things had changed in Neil Josten’s bedroom."
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry if this chapter was a little short BUT if all goes well, I might upload sooner next week :D 
> 
> Let me know what you thought, if you want :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> It rained a lot today, so when I opened the windows it smelled like rain and mmm... Nearly autumn !! 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was hilarious,  
if you did things like laughing,  
that there were no fineliners in the house.  
  
Neither Kevin nor Nicky used ink to make their art  
and so Andrew had to go to the one person who did.  
  
It was a gamble if Neil was home, but when Andrew knocked on the door,  
it was opened by scarred hands  
and apprehensive, blue eyes.  
  
When Neil saw it was Andrew,  
he relaxed.  
  
Since when?  
  
Quietly, Neil moved aside to let Andrew in,  
since when,  
and led the way to his bedroom.   
  
A few things had changed in Neil Josten’s bedroom.  
  
The walls weren’t bare anymore  
but parts of Neil were.  
  
Sketches were lining the walls.  
  
Andrew recognized the first ones, the one of the guy crouching down, a camera in front of his face.  
He recognized himself standing on the roof, sitting at the picnic table, leaning against a car.   
  
He saw himself smoking in four sketches,  
different parts of him blocked from view by toxic clouds.  
  
He saw himself how Neil saw him.  
  
Since when?  
  
Andrew took a step back.   
A step closer to the door.  
  
_Don’t you think the same thing could be true for them too?  
  
_ Yes.  
No.  
  
He was almost gone, taking quick, quick steps away from the edge, but then Andrew’s eye fell on the sketch of a burning car.  
  
What.  
  
With two steps, he was in front of the sketch.  
  
‘What’s this?’  
  
‘A car,’ Neil answered.  
  
His voice sounded too thin,  
like paint that was stretched out for too long.  
  
Andrew reached out to take the sketch,  
but Neil’s hand immediately clamped around his wrist like a vice.  
  
Within a heartbeat, Andrew’s entire body was alert and tense,  
and he had to force himself to go still before he’d break Neil’s hand.  
  
‘Let go,’ Andrew said.   
  
‘Don’t take the sketch,’ Neil replied, but he let go as soon as the words left his mouth.  
  
Andrew’s arm hung in the air, fingers hovering in front of the sketch. Like he’d burn if he touched the drawn flames.  
  
‘Thought you didn’t believe in trust, Josten.’  
  
‘Thought you didn’t think something could be interesting for long,’ Neil answered, eyes flicking between Andrew’s eyes and his hand. ‘Yet here we are.’  
  
Andrew knew the truth wouldn’t be in the sketch,  
so he dropped his hand.  
  
‘Here we are,’ he agreed.  
  
x  
  
Yeah, here Andrew was.  
Without fineliners.  
  
And the deadline was tomorrow.  
  
He couldn’t take another picture of Neil, not this fast, not without forcing it,  
so Andrew searched through his folders until he found a shot of Neil he like―  
he could work with  
and walked to the university to print it.  
  
The line for the printer was small and when Andrew punched it into submission, it actually started printing the photo. With ink.   
  
How great when things in life were predictable.  
  
The image of the burning car appeared in his mind again.  
  
Unpredictable  
and unexpected.  
  
Without thinking about it, Andrew took his photo from the printer and walked to the library.  
  
x  
  
Nothing.  
  
He could find nothing about car accidents.   
That wasn’t unexpected, but scratching that itch had only made it worse.  
  
Feeling restless, Andrew made his way to the roof.  
  
Standing so high up,  
so far away from everything,  
made it easier to think.   
  
Andrew watched the photo in his hand,  
watched Neil watching him through the lens,  
and felt the urge to let it fall off the roof, to let the wind carry it to wherever.  
  
‘Normally, people just delete their photos,’ Neil said behind him.  
  
Andrew had heard the squeak of the door to the roof  
and the almost unnoticeable sound of careful footsteps,  
the kind you only learned by having to be quieter than death.  
  
‘If only it was that easy,’ Andrew said. ‘To simply delete.’  
  
A quiet question.  
  
‘Do you want that?’  
  
‘Do you want to be permanent?’ Andrew asked in return, turning around.  
  
‘Yes,’ Neil answered, the blue in his eyes speckled with the neon colours of anxiety. ‘But I don’t know how.’  
  
Andrew watched him.  
Stepped of the ledge for him.  
Closed the distance,  
finally.  
  
‘You do it line by line,’ he said, leaning into Neil’s space. ‘You trace it with ink until you can’t erase it anymore.’  
  
‘That’s what I’m trying to do-’  
  
Andrew covered Neil’s mouth with his hand.  
  
But it wasn’t as good as the image in his head.  
  
‘Yes or no?’ Andrew asked, watching the question change the filter of the world, watched the muted colours around him brighten and blur, until  
blue  
was the predominant colour in this painting.  
  
He felt Neil’s answer against his skin.  
Heard the hoarse and muffled yes,  
saw it when Neil nodded.  
  
The yes was warm  
but when Andrew replaced his hand with his mouth,  
the answer was warmer.  
  
He brushed his lips softly over Neil’s,  
like he was using the most expensive paint in the world.  
  
A shade called-  
  
Neil’s hands tangled into Andrew’s hair and pulled him closer, almost taking over the kiss, definitely taking Andrew’s breath away.  
  
Andrew slipped his tongue inside Neil’s mouth, and wanted to photograph Neil’s sigh when their tongues touched.  
  
The kiss felt nothing like standing on the roof.  
  
Completely out of breath, Andrew pulled back.  
  
Neil’s hands reluctantly fell down as he took a step back.  
  
‘I want to paint that kiss,’ Neil said.  
  
He looked surprised by his own words.  
  
‘I want to borrow your fineliners,’ Andrew said.  
  
Neil blinked.  
  
‘Yeah, sure.’  
  
‘Bring them over,’ Andrew said shortly, then walked away from the roof  
and the possibility of _falling_.  
  
x  
  
When Andrew closed the door behind him,  
he stood still  
and focused on his breathing.  
  
in  
and  
out  
in  
and  
out  
  
But his hands would. not. stop shaking.  
  
Annoyed, Andrew clenched them into fists.  
  
But it was his heart that was clenching the most.  
Fuck.  
  
x  
  
When Neil knocked on the door that evening,  
Andrew stayed on the couch, eyes trained on the TV, while Kevin stood up and opened the door.  
  
‘Yeah?’ Kevin said.  
  
‘These are for Andrew.’  
  
The _thought_ of looking was equal parts horrifying and wonderful,  
so Andrew clenched his hands into fists and tried to look like he was paying attention to the TV.  
  
Aside from the program he was currently ‘watching’, the apartment was quiet.  
  
Kevin cleared his throat.  
  
‘Anything else?’  
  
Neil’s answer took a fucking long time.  
  
At least twenty breaths.  
  
‘No. Apparently not.’  
  
Without further ado, Kevin closed the door and put the fineliners on the table. Of course, they immediately rolled away from the center.  
One fell  
over the edge.  
  
It clattered on the ground.  
  
Andrew slowly turned his head to look at it.  
  
‘Why are those for you?’ Kevin asked. ‘You don’t draw.’  
  
He’d said that, didn’t he?  
  
Paint and pencils were _touching_.  
And Andrew didn’t want to touch. Not if he could help it.  
  
Which was why he couldn’t do this.   
He couldn’t do the whole love business.  
He could just about manage the bare minimum of fucking.  
  
But for some reason the image in his head was persistent,   
was staring daringly at him with blue eyes,  
so Andrew moved to his feet and picked up the fineliners.  
  
He’d also said something else.  
Had said it to Neil no less.  
  
‘Things that don’t change are boring,’ he repeated to Kevin.  
  
x  
  
Hall was staring silently at the photo.  
  
He’d already seen it, because Andrew had passed the assignment. Yet he was looking at it so intensely, like he was surprised at what he found.   
  
‘What, uh.’ Hall scraped his throat. The sound was somehow very loud in the busy classroom. ‘What are you covering up?’  
  
Andrew looked at the photo of Neil, staring in the camera with wary eyes,  
a hand drawn over his mouth.  
  
‘Neil’s mouth,’ Andrew answered.  
  
‘I can see that,’ Hall replied. ‘And I applaud your combination of different media.’  
  
‘It’s not different,’ Kevin answered, suddenly appearing behind them. Andrew didn’t need to turn around to know Kevin was scrutinizing the photo. ‘Photos use ink, just like fineliners and markers do. It’s the same liquid, applied in different ways.’  
  
The answer slapped Andrew in the face.  
  
It was both fear,  
applied to different things.  
  
Neil might be trying to run away from permanence with his sketches,  
but Andrew was running away from making his art too personal.  
  
And now Neil was trying to change by using ink to press his thoughts deeper into the paper,  
while Andrew was using ink to  
_touch.  
  
_ ‘That’s an interesting perspective, Kevin,’ Hall said. ‘Still, the application is different, so it counts for the assignment.’  
  
‘Yeah, drawing and taking photos are totally different!’ Nicky chimed in, moving to stand beside Andrew.   
  
Andrew knew Nicky saw the photo when he heard him suck in a breath.  
  
‘Oh, Andrew,’ Nicky said quietly after a while. ‘What are you trying to stop him from saying?’  
  
Both Hall and Kevin whipped their heads around to stare at Andrew.  
  
‘Lies,’ Andrew replied. ‘Stopping the lies spilling out of his mouth, and focusing on the truth in his eyes.’  
  
‘There’s more ways to lie,’ Nicky said. ‘Just like there are more ways to show the truth.’  
  
‘Using art, for example,’ Hall added.  
  
‘I don’t need another therapist,’ Andrew said flatly, turning his back on them all. Turning his back on Neil’s eyes.  
  
Perhaps he should’ve covered those too.  
  
He didn’t need Neil to see the truth  
and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Neil’s.  
  
x  
  
Not that Neil paid any mind to what Andrew wanted.  
  
Skipping the rest of his classes, Andrew went back to the dorm instead.   
He knew that nobody should be home.   
Yet the door was unlocked.  
  
Andrew slipped a knife from his armband  
and slowly opened the front door.  
  
Neil Josten was sitting on the couch, sketchbook on his lap while his hand was carefully pressing ink into the paper.  
  
‘I don’t remember inviting you in,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘You gave me a key.’  
  
Andrew knew what Neil was saying.  
He just willfully chose to ignore it.  
  
‘Not to this apartment.’  
  
Neil’s eyes remained focused on the paper, staring at the lines his pen left behind.  
  
‘You gave me the option to stay,’ he said. ‘You gave me a chance for something permanent.’  
  
‘I’m not that something,’ Andrew replied shortly.  
  
Finally, Neil looked at him.  
  
‘No, you’re somebody.’  
  
With two steps, Andrew closed the distance between his knife and Neil’s stomach.  
The tip pressed harshly into Neil’s ugly sweater, close to cutting it up if Neil so much as moved wrong.

‘Fuck that,’ Andrew said lowly. ‘We both know I can’t stop photographing you, and I won’t stop you from drawing me. But there’s going to be nothing of that.’  
  
Neil didn’t seem particularly perturbed.  
  
‘I’m used to nothing.’  
  
Used to nothing.  
  
_It’s the same liquid, applied in different ways_ .  
  
‘Great,’ Andrew said, ‘That’ll make this easier.’  
  
As soon as the words left his mouth, it was like Andrew had taken a flash photo, because Neil's eyes lit up for a second.  
A smug second.  
  
‘This?’  
  
Though Andrew wanted to kiss the word out of Neil’s mouth so badly, he tightened his hold on the knife  
and took a few steps back.   
  
Better to create some _distance_ .  
  
Not that it felt like distance.   
Not like the photo he’d handed in, with its different filters, so blatantly obvious to anyone who cared to look.   
  
Kevin had unknowingly nailed it.   
Neil and Andrew _were_ the same ink, applied differently.  
  
And it was that,  
that brush stroke that spoke of understanding,  
that made Andrew feel like he could take another thousand steps back  
and still feel _connected_ .   
To Neil.  
  
‘Get the fuck out of my apartment,’ Andrew said, knife still in his hand.  
  
Neil did, without a word.  
  
After a full minute had passed, Andrew sighed.   
Slid the knife back.  
  
His eye fell on the couch and the piece of paper lying there.  
  
He wanted to burn it without looking,  
but the drawing was pressed into the paper with such clear strokes that it was impossible to overlook the two figures,  
starting out with thin, thin lines,  
but getting stronger  
where they were intertwined.   
  
Kissing.  
  
Mouths were pressed into the paper  
like theirs had been in real life.   
  
Firmly.  
Passionately.  
  
Real.  
  
x  
  
It was to be expected that eventually one of his roommates would ask questions.  
It had been three days.  
Three days where Andrew would leave before the break of dawn, only to come back when it was nearly midnight.   
  
He just hadn’t expected that roommate to be Kevin.  
  
‘Are you art-blocked?’ Kevin asked.  
  
Andrew closed the door behind him.  
  
‘No.’  
  
Kevin was sitting at their kitchen table, laptop light making his features appear eerily blue. Almost like a robot.  
  
‘So why this behaviour? You leave before I’m awake, and you arrive when Nicky’s going to bed. Do you have a new interest or something?’  
  
Crossing his arms over his chest, Andrew leaned back against the door.  
  
‘New? There never was any interest.’  
  
In response, Kevin slid a piece of paper towards him.  
  
Andrew didn’t even have to lean closer to see the intertwined mouths,  
the harsh pen strokes where lips touched.  
  
‘You call this nothing?’ Kevin asked.  
  
‘It’s just a drawing.’  
  
Kevin scoffed.  
  
‘Even I can see that it’s not nothing. When someone puts their heart into their art, you can _always_ see it. You can always feel it.’  
  
‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ Andrew answered simply.  
  
‘Why not? What’s so bad about good art?’  
  
Andrew laughed humourlessly.  
  
‘I’m not talking about fucking art. I’m talking about-’  
  
‘I know what you’re talking about,’ Kevin interrupted him. ‘I’m not stupid, I can see what’s happening. My question still stands. What’s so bad about good art?’  
  
For once,   
Andrew had no idea what Kevin was asking him.  
  
Kevin, who named his first clay sculpture _Clay Sculpture 1#_ . Kevin, who drew what was in front of him, who adored realism because it was clear cut and obvious.  
  
When there was no answer, Kevin shook his head.  
  
‘Finding the right composition, the right colour combination and angle. That’s how you make good art,’ Kevin said. ‘How’s that any different from finding the right qualities in a person?’  
  
It-  
But.  
  
Kevin shut his laptop and moved to his feet.  
  
‘You have the chance to possibly take the perfect picture… And you’re not going to take it?’  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Kevin disappeared into his bedroom,  
leaving Andrew to stand alone in the dark.  
  
He’d thought Kevin was predictable and uninteresting.  
  
Turned out it wasn’t that clear cut.  
  
Kevin _mostly_ was.  
  
But if this applied to Kevin of all people, then.  
  
Andrew walked over to the table and picked up the drawing of their first kiss.  
  
He thought Neil was unpredictable, interesting  
and dangerous.   
  
What if he was _mostly_ that?  
  
Andrew stared at the deep, dark lines.  
Lines that were harder to erase than those flimsy pencil sketches from before.  
  
He reminded himself it wasn’t his problem if Neil succeeded in making something permanent or not.  
  
But he could see Neil was changing.  
And change  
kept things interesting.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.  
  
With just a tap of his finger,  
he took the photo.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; "Isn't paint toxic?" 
> 
> Hihi, I'll leave you with that cryptic preview sentence. So yeahhh... Finally, huh :)))
> 
> Thank you so much for reading again!! It makes me so happy to hear that you're enjoying this fic <3 And let me know what you thought of this chapter, if you want!
> 
> OH SHOOT I NEARLY FORGOT. I was thinking of maybe upping the rating for this fic?? Making it "Mature". What do you guys think? Is anyone against that idea? 'Cause I can just as easily leave things vague,,, Let me know what you want!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!!
> 
> Another long chapter :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The next day, Andrew decided to go to the roof.   
  
_ Mostly  _ still wasn’t enough to take the leap,  
but it was good enough to take the stairs.  
  
It was just before dinner, and the air had turned a little chilly with the oncoming evening.  
  
Which was probably why Neil Josten had his hoodie drawn up.  
To shield himself against curious eyes and the unforgiving wind.  
  
Not interested in sneaking around, Andrew slammed the roof’s door closed.  
  
Neil immediately jerked upright  
before whipping his head around with such aggression that his hoodie fell back down.  
  
His auburn hair was instantly picked up by the wind.    
  
But Andrew didn’t pay attention to any of that.  
  
He was focused on the  _ anger _ in Neil’s blue eyes.  
  
Throwing his sketchbook to the ground, Neil moved to his feet and stalked towards Andrew, hands clenched into fists.    
  
Andrew noticed he was holding something a second before Neil threw his hand, and the tube of red paint, in the air.    
  
A large blob landed on Andrew’s face,  
the paint splattering over his left side like he’d been shot.  
  
‘Fuck you,’ Neil said angrily.  
  
Well, Andrew wasn’t going to apologise for kissing him and then leaving-  
  
Neil threw a paint streaked hand in the air.    
It looked like blood.    
It looked like frustration.  
  
‘I fucking  _ hate _ paint.’  
  
Oh.  
  
‘I don’t see how that’s my business,’ Andrew replied drily.  
  
‘This shit,’ Neil said, shaking the other hand, which was holding a tube of blue paint. Blue paint splatters hit the right side of Andrew’s face. ‘I can’t be precise with this at all. It presses so harshly into the paper, I can’t even be fucking subtle with it. It’s like I’m screaming on paper.’  
  
Oh, Andrew was going to tell that one to Kevin.  
  
‘Not only on paper,’ he replied.  
  
Neil’s eyes narrowed.  
  
‘You said I should try making something permanent.’  
  
‘But you’re quitting?’  
  
‘No,’ Neil said stubbornly. ‘I’m not afraid of failure.’   
  
For some reason, the little shit put the emphasis on  _ I’m _ .  
  
‘What makes you think I am?’  
  
‘Easy.’ Neil shrugged. ‘After just one kiss, you disappeared for three days.’  
  
Annoying little shit.  
  
‘As great as it is to hear you insult commitment issues, I don’t have them.’  
  
‘That’s why I said failure. It’s a different reason why you don’t want to take this step or something.’  
  
Because  _ this step _ would take him straight over the fucking edge,  
and Andrew knew it.   
  
Had known for a while now.  
  
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re not that interesting.’  
  
Not ye-  
  
Suddenly, Neil squeezed into the tube of blue paint.  
  
A huge blob hit Andrew square in the jaw.  
  
It slowly dripped down his face.  
  
Fine.  
With a quick jab to the wrist, Andrew released Neil’s hold on the tube and grabbed it out of his hand.  
  
He aimed the paint at Neil’s face  
and squeezed.  
  
It was strangely satisfying to watch blobs of paint drip  
down Neil’s auburn hair,  
between his frowning eyebrows  
and down his straight nose.  
  
It was dribbling slowly onto his lips too.  
Like an artistic bloody nose.  
  
Like Neil’s eyes were bleeding all over the canvas.  
  
Andrew’s hand itched for his camera.  
  
‘Yes or no?’  
  
Neil stared at him as he replied,  
‘Yes to both.’  
  
Fuck.  
  
Without wasting another second, Andrew took out his camera.  
  
The blue was screaming at him through the viewfinder.  
Holding his breath, he took four photos in rapid succession before putting his camera away,  
and reaching out.    
  
He brushed away the paint on Neil’s lips with his thumb.  
  
It still left blue streaks,  
like lies still left traces.  
  
Then, with red paint still dripping down his temples and face, Andrew smashed their blue and red lips together  
until the colours were mixed into an indiscernible colour called  
_ desire _ .  
  
When he slipped his tongue in Neil’s mouth,  
Neil groaned.  
  
‘Isn’t paint toxic?’ Neil breathed against his lips.  
  
‘We all die someday,’ Andrew answered, before slotting their lips together again.    
  
Swiping his tongue over blue lips, he felt Neil’s paint streaked hands tangle into his hair.    
  
They would both be painted in the shades of their kiss if this continued,  
yet Andrew still gripped the sides of Neil’s face, slippery from the paint, and tilted his face to deepen their kiss.  
  
Andrew hadn’t liked painting,  
because it was  _ touching _ .  
  
But maybe he’d just been using the wrong canvas.  
Maybe all he needed was Neil between his hands  
and against his mouth.   
  
Fuck.    
Andrew could barely feel the ground underneath his feet anymore.  
  
x  
  
Kevin was behind his laptop.  
  
Nicky was watching TV.   
  
He had one shot.   
Go.  
  
Andrew had almost made it to the bathroom, when he heard the TV go mute.   
  
‘Andrew?’ Nicky asked tentatively. Footsteps. Coming closer. ‘Can we talk? Kevin told me-’  
  
The footsteps halted.  
  
‘Um.’  
  
Pretend like nothing’s wrong.  
  
Andrew squared his shoulders and turned around.  
  
‘What.’  
  
‘There’s, um-’ Nicky stifled a surprised laugh. ‘I think there’s-’  
  
‘You look like you made out with a tube of paint,’ Kevin said.  
  
‘Yes, that’s what I did,’ Andrew replied.  
  
Neither of them said anything for a few blissful seconds.  
  
‘But, uh,’ Nicky let out a nervous giggle. ‘How does that even, you know… work?’  
  
Three rapid knocks on their front door saved Andrew.  
They sounded hurried,  
like the owner was in a panic.  
  
‘Course it was Neil.  
  
Nicky gaped as Neil stepped into their apartment,  
large parts of him coloured in that claiming shade of blue.  
  
‘Matt’s using the shower,’ Neil said, moving past a speechless Nicky. ‘Can I use yours?’  
  
Andrew briefly watched the smeared streaks of paint around Neil’s lips,  
before observing the blue on his face.  
  
In comparison to the mess on his cheeks, neck, face and even hair,  
Neil’s eyes were calm.  
Relaxed.  
  
‘You can use it after me,’ Andrew answered.  
  
‘Why not save water while you’re at it,’ Kevin said.  
  
‘Go back to your blog.’  
  
‘I don’t think people want to hear his opinion there either,’ Neil commented casually.  
  
Another few seconds of utter silence.   
Today was apparently a good day.  
  
‘I don’t want him to use our shower,’ Kevin demanded, glaring at Neil.  
  
‘If only the world worked like that,’ Andrew mused. ‘On second thought, Neil, you go first.’  
  
He moved to the side to let Neil past.  
  
The corners of Neil’s blue streaked mouth turned up  
and suddenly Andrew wanted to be there to watch the paint drip off Neil’s skin.  
  
But the door to the bathroom closed,  
and the lock turned.  
  
Andrew should do the same to his fee-  
To these urges.  
  
‘ _ Sooo _ ,’ Nicky said slowly. ‘I take it we have a new family member?’  
  
‘If you don’t shut up, we’re losing one,’ Andrew threatened.  
  
x  
  
‘Not the most inventive option for the assignment  _ colour _ ,’ his professor commented.  
  
‘Think of better assignments then,’ Andrew replied flatly, shouldering his backpack.  
  
‘So it was only for an assignment, huh?’ Nicky asked, but the big grin on his face made it obvious he wasn’t really asking.  
  
‘Sometimes artists have to suffer,’ Andrew replied.  
  
‘The only thing that suffered was perfectly good paint,’ Kevin said.  
  
x  
  
For some unfathomable reason, Hall insisted on joining them during their first meeting with Mr. Sweetwine.  
  
He’d said he would meet them there.  
  
When Andrew turned left, the Sweetwine Art Center came into view.  
  
Though the building was done, there was no one around, and there was only one car in the parking lot.    
Andrew neatly parked in the spot opposite it.  
  
He killed the engine and was just about to take the key from the ignition when Neil spoke up.   
  
‘Do you-’  
  
Silence.  
  
Andrew looked at him.   
  
Neil was staring at his hands.  
At the scars.  
  
Andrew waited patiently, observing Neil, though Neil’s face was mostly hidden behind his hair as he stared at his own hands like he wanted to burn them.  
  
‘I know it’s safe,’ Neil said. ‘But it’s... Instinct, I guess.’  
  
Andrew knew about those.   
Useless instincts that screamed  _ no _ at you before you could even think.   
  
Reaching over, he held out his hand above Neil’s own.    
Not touching.   
Not yet.  
  
‘Yes or no?’  
  
Slowly, Neil turned his hand palm up,  
the space between their skin becoming nearly tangible  
before he said,  
‘Yes.’  
  
When Andrew’s hands touched Neil’s open palm, when their fingers slotted together,  
Neil’s breath hitched.   
  
So this was what made him lose his breath.  
  
Neil stared at the back of Andrew’s hands.  
  
‘Why the “yes or no”?’ he asked.  
  
_ No  
_ Andrew’s instincts said.  
  
‘Why are you afraid to use your own name?’ Andrew asked in return.   
  
He saw the anxiety in Neil’s eyes at the question,  
felt the sudden tension in his hand.   
  
He knew Neil wasn’t ready to give this answer up.  
  
A rickety old car turned into the parking garage just then, and parked two spots away from Andrew’s car.  
  
An enthusiastic hand waved at them through the window.   
  
Hall.  
  
Andrew pulled back his hand,  
but Neil held on.  
  
His blue eyes were too telling when they looked at Andrew.  
  
‘It was my mother’s car.’  
  
The sketch.   
The burning car.  
  
It didn’t necessarily mean anything bad, but Andrew hadn’t grown up the way he did to be naive.   
  
Neil’s mother had been in that car.  
  
Andrew tapped twice against his armband with his free hand.  
  
‘The result of foster families,’ he said.  
  
Neil nodded.  
  
Then Hall knocked on the window.  
  
They both jerked upright in their seats, and quickly pulled back their hands.  
They probably looked guilty.  
  
Annoyed, Andrew yanked the key out of the ignition before shouldering the door open, pushing Hall to the side with the car door.  
  
‘O-Oh,’ Hall stumbled, but his smile didn’t. ‘Hello there. Let’s get inside shall we?’  
  
x  
  
The main hall was sleek and clean.    
Except for the ceiling.   
  
Paint splatters of every colour littered the grey ceiling, looking much like the floor of a painter’s studio.    
  
Andrew thought it was an interesting concept.  
  
Very few people would actually look up,  
so all they’d see were the sleek marble floors and the seashell coloured walls.  
  
They wouldn’t know that the owner of the center was actually a dreamer.  
  
As soon as Mister Sweetwine himself walked towards them, Andrew could see it too. Could see it in his eyes, the way they observed and instantly seemed to paint the world around him.  
  
‘Mister Sweetwine,’ Hall said enthusiastically. ‘I’m so happy you’re giving my students this opportunity.’  
  
‘I’m not giving them anything,’ Sweetwine answered with a smile. ‘Looking at their work, I’d say they worked hard for it.’  
  
‘You can tell just by looking at our art?’ Neil asked skeptically. ‘How do you know we’re not winging it?’  
  
Sweetwine turned to Neil and watched him for a few seconds.   
Andrew suspected he was already seeing a painting or photo in his mind, and when Sweetwine tilted his head to the left and then right, he was certain.  
  
The man seemed to  _ live _ art.  
  
‘You can always tell if someone puts their soul into their art,’ Sweetwine finally answered.    
  
Same thing Kevin had said.   
  
Another silence.  
  
When it became clear Neil wasn’t going to reply, Sweetwine turned his attention to Andrew.    
  
But he was grossly mistaken if he thought Andrew had anything to say to him.    
All Andrew wanted was to make money.  
  
‘Okay,’ Sweetwine said, nodding with a slight smile on his face. ‘I’ll show you the gallery then.’  
  
x  
  
The space was fine. More than fine.    
  
‘It has moveable walls, so you can really utilize the space to tell the story that you want,’ Sweetwine explained enthusiastically.  
  
But Andrew didn’t have a story to tell.  
Not one that people wanted to hear.  
  
It seemed that was the case for Neil too, judging by the way he was standing a little behind them, probably counting and recounting all the possible exits.  
  
‘That’s ingenious!’ Hall gushed. ‘How did you come up with the idea?’  
  
Sweetwine’s eyes lit up, and he started explaining in detail how they thought of the design of the space.  
They being him and his  _ partner _ .  
  
‘It’s just a space,’ Andrew said to the air, the empty walls and the possibilities.  
  
A deep breath behind him.  
A shaky exhale.  
  
Neil didn’t sound relaxed at all.  
  
Andrew turned around and his eyes nearly passed over Neil.    
Neil was almost curled in upon himself, trying to make himself invisible in a room that held nothing but floors and walls.  
  
‘Neil,’ he said.  
  
No reaction.  
  
Andrew moved a little closer.  
  
‘Neil. Look at me.’  
  
For whatever reason, Neil did.    
Forced his flittery gaze to focus on Andrew’s blank one.   
  
‘You still have a choice,’ Andrew said. ‘You always have a choice. If you don’t want to do this, you can walk away right now.’  
  
And be predictable.  
Listening to those boring instincts, letting them dictate your life.   
  
Though who was Andrew to judge? Perhaps Neil’s instincts were what had kept him breathing all those years.   
  
But.   
  
‘Breathing isn’t living,’ Neil murmured.    
  
Okay, that was fucking freaky.  
  
Andrew watched carefully as Neil’s blurry edges seemed to come into focus,  
seemed to be traced over with ink  
as he made a permanent choice.  
  
‘I make my own art,’ Neil said, determinedly. ‘And it’s going to be featured.’  
  
The words were slightly out of place in the conversation.   
  
Andrew felt like he’d been given a key, but not the way to the lock.   
Hm.  
  
‘Andrew!’ Professor Hall called out, too excited to be professional. ‘Look at these lamps!’  
  
It was a fucking hard decision to drag his gaze away from the newfound determination and stubbornness in Neil’s eyes,  
to look at  
_ lamps _ .  
  
x  
  
Though Neil was quiet the rest of the tour and the way back to the car, as soon as he shut the car door, he opened his mouth before Andrew could buckle his seatbelt.  
  
‘Do you believe that too?’  
  
‘There’s very few things I believe in,’ Andrew said. ‘You’re going to have to be more specific.’  
  
‘Can you tell when someone puts their soul into their art?’  
  
Oh that.  
  
Andrew turned the car key. The engine rumbled in response as the radio turned on,  
a slow, low beat filling the car.    
Like a heartbeat.  
  
‘When you feel like you put something personal into your art, your “soul”,’ Andrew added flatly. ‘You’ll like that piece more. It holds personal value for you. So you present it to people with confidence. With an attitude that says, I don’t give two shits about your opinion. Because I like it.’    
  
Neil was quiet.  
  
‘Is that your soul?’ Andrew asked boredly. ‘Who knows.’  
  
‘So all we’re doing is bullshitting people?’ Neil asked.  
  
It was kind of ironic.  
  
‘I’m photographing the possibility of falling. What are you doing, Josten?’  
  
It took a while before Neil answered.  
  
‘Living,’ he finally said.  
  
_ Breathing isn’t living _ .  
  
Finally, Neil was doing more than just existing.    
He was creating art. He was going to sign his name underneath pieces and show them to the world.  
  
Andrew didn’t know if Neil would ever give titles to his drawings,  
but he was changing  
and Andrew felt like he was lagging behind.    
  
It annoyed him,  
so he hit the gas pedal harder than he should, and the car shot backwards.   
  
Neil’s head nearly hit the dashboard.  
  
‘What the fuck,’ Neil swore, glaring at Andrew.  
  
Staring into those expressive blue eyes, Andrew reached over,  
his arm brushing Neil’s chest as he grabbed the seatbelt.    
  
He felt Neil tense,  
felt him hold his breath.  
  
Andrew yanked the seatbelt towards him, leaning back and clicking the thing into place.  
  
‘Safety first, Josten,’ he said.  
  
‘Then I shouldn’t have gotten into your car.’  
  
That was true.  
  
A humourless laugh escaped Andrew before he could stop it.  
  
x  
  
‘So, I know we’ve been working with some really abstract themes lately,’ Hall started the class.  
  
‘They’re great,’ some pretentious fuckwad spoke up. ‘They really push us to reach  _ beyond _ , you know? To find our inner muse.’  
  
Right.  
  
‘Uh, that’s nice to hear,’ Hall said. He looked confused. ‘Anyway. I wanted to give you something a little more straightforward, something more technical even.’  
  
Andrew’s phone buzzed.    
Two times.   
He pulled it out.  
  
[Nicky]  
it’s been aaages since we went to eden’s!! what do u say?  
  
The other one was from Aaron.  
  
[Aaron]  
Still alive. In a sense. Have to work all day and all night.  
  
[Andrew]  
Some people have to work for 20 grand too.  
  
[Aaron]  
As if taking pictures is exhausting.  
  
‘Lights!’ Hall suddenly exclaimed.    
  
Startled, Andrew tensed for a second before glaring up at Hall.  
  
‘Excuse me?’ one of the other students said.  
  
‘Work with different lighting than you’re used to for this assignment,’ Hall elaborated. ‘Try and find a style or light source you haven’t used yet.’  
  
Pretentious fuckwad seemed confused by the straightforward request,  
but Andrew’s mind was already filtering through possible shots as he opened his laptop.  
  
[From: Andrew Minyard]  
We’re going out this weekend. Assignment.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; ‘Fine,’ Neil said finally. ‘But only if you help me with my assignment.’
> 
> Aaaand they're going to Eden's! 
> 
> Thank you raven_king for coming up with the idea of lights as an assignment!! <3
> 
> And to all of you: thank you so, so, so much for reading, and all the wonderful support <3 It makes me super happy, and helps me while I'm studying all day ;u;  
> Also, let me know what you thought of this chapter if you want!
> 
> CHECK OUT THIS [AMAZING ART PIECE](https://c-dragon-art.tumblr.com/post/179074667240/a-birthday-gift-for-idnis-of-a-scene-from-her#notes) by my lovely beta c-dragon-art !!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!!
> 
> For those of you who are starting with school again (be it new or "old"), good luck!!  
> And for those of you who are working, or are in-between, good luck too ♡
> 
> TW: smut with the hands (and it's not finger painting)  
> ( I suggest you stop reading at "Then, the most important word. ‘Yes.’ " )
> 
> Enjoy!

When Nicky returned to their dorm the next night,  
he was followed by an annoyed Neil.  
  
‘I didn’t tell you to bring home the trash,’ Andrew commented, as he continued killing off zombies on the PlayStation.  
  
‘What’s this?’ Neil asked.   
  
Andrew didn’t look over, so he had no idea.  
  
A zombie groaned to his left and Andrew quickly shot it before it could get far. Unfortunately, as was the case with zombies, another horde was already coming from the-  
  
Neil moved in front of the TV.  
Held up the bag of clothes Andrew had bought him.  
  
‘Why do I need these?’  
  
‘We’re going out Saturday. Keep up, Josten.’  
  
Neil watched him.  
  
And Andrew tried.  
He really did.  
  
But the blue was sucking him in,  
was making him pay attention.  
  
It was like it was the only colour in the room.  
Like Andrew had lived in a world of grey before Neil decided to glare at him.  
  
He watched until, after a while, the irritation bled out of Neil’s eyes.  
  
‘Fine,’ Neil said finally. ‘But only if you help me with my assignment.’  
  
‘What’s your assignment?’ Nicky asked.  
  
Oh yeah, he was still there.  
  
As soon as Nicky spoke up,  
Andrew could suddenly hear the blaring alarms from the video game, telling him he was seconds away from dying.  
  
It was like someone had dropped a vase in an art museum,  
startling everyone out of the painted fantasy they’d been living in.  
  
‘Anatomy,’ Neil answered.  
  
Andrew had posed for classes before.  
But he’d always told Hall,  
_no nude_.  
  
Meanwhile the alarms from the game got louder, and the controller started vibrating in Andrew’s hands.  
  
Time was almost up.  
Time to make a choice.   
  
Would he tell Neil to move, so he could save himself?  
  
Or would he let himself die?  
  
‘Deal,’ Andrew said.   
  
Neil nodded, and walked back to the door.  
  
‘Wear the clothes,’ Andrew said before the door shut.  
  
When he looked back at the TV,  
pointedly ignoring Nicky’s look of surprise,  
the words GAME OVER burned into his eyes.  
  
Was it?  
  
x  
  
Andrew adjusted his shirt.   
  
He’d already looked at it in the mirror, so there was no need to fix it again. There was nothing to fix. Stop thinking.  
  
He knocked on the door.  
  
Big man Boyd answered it.  
  
‘What kinda clothes have you given him?’ Boyd asked, forgoing the greeting or handshake this time. ‘Neil hasn’t left the bathroom in forever.’  
  
Well, that was none of his business, was it?  
  
‘Is he still inside?’ Andrew asked.  
  
‘Yep.’  
  
All Andrew needed to know.   
He shouldered past Boyd and marched straight to the bathroom door, fist ready to knock.  
  
But then the urge returned.  
  
Annoyed, he quickly ran a hand through his hair to fix it, though it was _fine_ because he’d already looked at it in the mirror and there was nothing to fix.

_ Stop _ fucking thinking about how it looks.  
  
Andrew knocked on the bathroom door.  
  
‘Time to go.’  
  
‘I-’ Neil started, then stopped.  
  
When the answer didn’t come after a minute, Andrew pressed on.   
  
‘Yes?’  
  
The doorknob turned  
and the door opened to show Andrew a fucking piece of art.  
  
‘Nothing,’ Neil answered, blue eyes burning amidst the dark clothes. ‘I’m fine.’  
  
Andrew swallowed.  
Allowed himself a quick look at the tight, long-sleeved shirt  
with see-through effect.  
  
The fitted, dark jeans.  
  
The sleek boots.  
  
Something inside Andrew was  _ satisfied _ at seeing Neil painted in his colours,  
the black of misfits and misfortune.    
Of emptiness  
and hiding.   
  
The black of ink,  
the very thing that could make something permanent.  
  
Without a word, Andrew turned around.  
  
He didn’t trust himself to keep from  _ touching _ .   
  
The sound of boots behind him told him Neil was following.    
  
x  
  
Waiting for them in the hallway were Nicky and Kevin.  
  
‘Damn Neil, you clean up nice,’ Nicky said appreciatively.  


Kevin eyed Neil with a mix of disdain and arrogance.    
The usual.  
  
‘Looks better than the paint splatters at least,’ he finally said.  
  
‘I heard you have to  _ feel _ your art for it to really come alive,’ Neil said. ‘But I guess you don’t need that when you’re just copying what you see.’  
  
_ Well _ .   
Raising an eyebrow, Andrew turned his attention to Neil.  
  
Bad move.  
  
Neil’s stubbornness was like a match to Andrew’s cigarette.    
Addicting,  
filling his lungs before burning him up.  
  
Andrew wanted to kiss Neil, so he turned around and walked down the stairs.   
The others would follow soon enough.  
  
‘Why is he with us?’ Andrew heard Kevin mutter.  
  
‘He’s our new family member,’ Nicky said patiently. ‘We’ve talked about this Kevin, keep up.’  
  
‘I’m not adopting that little shit.’  
  
‘I think one dysfunctional father is enough for me,’ Neil replied easily.    
  
Easily.   
  
But also,  
how?  
  
When they reached the car, Andrew leaned in close before Neil could climb in. Their arms brushed together.    
  
Andrew didn’t mind.  
  
‘How?’ he asked in a low voice.  
  
‘Two out of three times I’ve met Kevin, I could smell the alcohol on his breath,’ Neil answered.  
  
Hm.  
Interesting.  
  
Andrew turned and walked over to the driver’s seat,  
but Neil called after him.  
  
‘That was an easy question.’  
  
‘The night’s just beginning,’ Andrew replied, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch.  
  
x  
  
They could’ve gone to Sweetie’s first, but Andrew booked it past the restaurant and went straight for Eden’s.  
  
‘I thought we were going to-’ Kevin started, but Andrew cut him off.  
  
‘Didn’t you hear Neil?’  _ Dysfunctional _ .  ‘Don’t be an artist stereotype.’  
  
Kevin’s jaw snapped shut in irritation.  
  
In the backseat, Nicky hummed.   
  
Andrew didn’t want to look, but the temptation was too much. His eyes flickered to the backseat.    
  
Neil Josten was staring out the window, his eyes somewhere far away,  
his mouth tense.  
  
‘Mmm, I get it,’ Nicky hummed. ‘Why do drugs when you’re high on love?’  
  
Andrew’s hands tightened on the steering wheel  
  
‘Nicky,’ he warned.  


‘What?’ Nicky asked. ‘Can’t I be high on the feeling of _friendship_?’  
  
But Andrew saw his grin in the rearview mirror.  
  
He said nothing.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Nicky nodded, smile still on his face like it was a snapchat sticker, ‘I can practically _smell_ the _friendship_.’  
  
Andrew was tempted to stop the car and throw his cousin out,  
but one quick look told him Neil was so lost in his own thoughts, he hadn’t even heard Nicky’s comments.  
  
x  
  
As soon as they set foot in the nightclub,  
Neil took a step back.  
  
Neil’s nervous words were drowned out by loud music,  
just as his eyes were drowned by discomfort and anxiety.  
  
Andrew knew those colours well now. Was sure he could paint a hurried, blurry painting with them.  
If he did things like painting.  
  
‘First round’s on me,’ he told the group, then grabbed Neil’s wrist and dragged him towards the bar while Nicky and Kevin went in search of a table.  
  
‘Why did you bring me here?’ Neil shouted in his ear.  
  
Andrew wanted to turn around,  
wanted their noses to brush  
and their lips to touch.  
  
Instead he waved Roland over, and ordered drinks for the group.  
  
When he felt Neil move back, he turned around to lean back against the bar.  
  
‘I told you. Assignment.’  
  
Irritation flickered across Neil’s face.  
  
‘Well hurry up and take the shot.’  
  
‘No.’ Andrew tilted his head. ‘It’s not there. Not yet.’  
  
He heard Roland put their drinks down behind him,  
heard him snicker and say, ‘This is the first time you’ve brought a boy home, Andrew.’  
  
Annoying.  
But Neil hadn’t heard.  
  
Neil stepped closer, not touching, and reached behind Andrew for the drinks.   
  
Their faces were so close  
Andrew’s breath left him like he’d been pushed off the roof  
and his eyes clung to Neil’s face like they were the hands that kept him from falling.  
  
Though it was the complete fucking opposite.  
  
Andrew wasn’t drunk enough for this,  
yet he was already tilting his head slightly, the words spilling over his tongue.  
  
‘Yes o-’  
  
‘Not yet,’ Neil interrupted him, picking up the drinks and leaning back.  
  
Annoying little fuck.  
  
Neil gave Andrew a smug look before walking away towards a waving Nicky.   
It would’ve made Andrew angry,  
but it gave him the opportunity to note that Neil’s jeans were the perfect size.  
  
x  
  
Drinks disappeared into Kevin’s mouth at a pace that even Andrew’s car could barely keep up with.  
  
Meanwhile, Neil was looking at Kevin with judgement in his blue eyes.  
  
‘You don’t drink?’ Nicky shouted at him.  
  
Neil shook his head.  
  
‘You don’t paint _and_ you don’t drink,’ Kevin slurred, glaring at Neil. ‘What _do_ you do?’  
  
‘Claim the sun,’ Andrew commented, before taking a swig of his drink.   
  
It felt warm on his tongue  
and burned down his throat.  
  
Neil raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
‘The sun?’  
  
Andrew merely took another drink.  
  
‘Claim? Claim what?’ Nicky asked belatedly. ‘Did you steal an assignment from Andrew?’  
  
Neil’s face twisted into annoyance.  
  
‘No, not from Andrew.’  
  
‘Mine then,’ Kevin slurred, but everyone ignored him.  
  
‘It’s fine,’ Neil said vaguely.  
  
Okay. Andrew wasn’t going to let that go.  
  
‘What happened?’  
  
‘Nothing special. Just some guy in my class.’  
  
Andrew stared at Neil.  
  
Neil met his gaze for a full minute before he added, ‘He didn’t think my interpretation of an assignment sufficed and started arguing with the teacher about my grade.’  
  
Not unusual, but still. Andrew filed the information away for later.  
  
He knocked back the rest of his drink, then tapped Neil on the hand,  
fingers brushing against his scars.  
  
Though he noticed Neil’s burning stare,  
he walked towards the bar for more drinks, maneuvering his way through the bodies.   
  
After shouting their order at Roland, Andrew leaned back and-  
felt Neil’s chest press against his back.  
  
Andrew stiffened.   
  
There was little space for him to turn around.  
Not without touching Neil a lot more.  
  
Hot breath tickled his neck  
and Andrew felt himself shiver in response.  
  
‘The lights make everything seem unreal,’ Neil said, voice close to his ear. ‘Like I’m hallucinating.’  
  
The slight pressure at Andrew’s back disappeared,  
and Andrew took a deep breath before turning around.  
  
He stared at Neil.  
  
Every second, a light flashed, painting Neil in different neon colours,  
each alluring in a different way.  
  
He had called Neil’s panic a neon colour once,  
but now that he saw Neil lit up red by the strobes lights,  
it didn’t look anything like panic.  
  
It looked like Neil was being photographed,  
like his portrait was shot with different filters.  
  
Like he was all those filters at once.  
All of those feelings.  
  
‘You’re a hallucination,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘No,’ Neil said, eyes piercing. ‘I’m a photograph.’  
  
The answer was so ridiculous that Andrew wanted to laugh.  
He didn’t.

Obviously.  
  
‘You’re not,’ he shot back boredly.  
  
Neil tilted his head slightly.  
  
‘Then what are you waiting for?’ he asked.  
  
x  
  
Andrew’s skin felt warm,  
almost uncomfortably so.    
  
Like there were dozens of hands touching up his sides, over his arms, and down his back.    
  
He wanted to shake them off  
and he wanted to search for Neil’s,  
wanted to recognize his touch more than he wanted to push it away.  
  
Andrew eyed the drink in his hand.    
  
It probably wasn’t a good idea.    
But then, neither was Neil.  
  
Flashes of green neon light made the drink seem to glow.  
Andrew swallowed it all down.    
  
Maybe he’d keep some of that light.  
Maybe it wouldn’t be so dark inside of him anymore.   
  
Of course that was nonsense,  
just like it was nonsense that Neil’s blue blue  _ blue _ eyes could look anywhere else,  
yet they kept straying back to Andrew.  
  
Like Andrew was a movie Neil didn’t want to miss a second of.  
  
A drop of sweat trailed down Andrew’s neck as he took a step forward,  
closer into Neil’s personal space.   
  
Neil’s eyes darkened.  
  
‘Care to share your space?’ Andrew asked.  
  
Swallowing, Neil put down his coke and nodded.   
Interesting.  
  
Andrew raised a finger  
and pointed at Neil.  
  
‘What are you expecting?’ he asked.  
  
The lights around them changed  
colouring the space between their lips a deep, dark purple.   
  
The symbolism wasn’t lost on Andrew.   
  
Purple,  
the colour created when you mixed the blue blue  _ blue  _ of Neil’s eyes  
and the ugly red of Andrew’s anger.

The red of the blood he’d spilled just to keep breathing.  
  
Neil’s lips looked perfect in purple.  
  
Andrew didn’t want to move away, but he wanted the shot more  
so he grabbed his bag and his camera.  
  
Neil hadn’t moved from his spot.  
He was almost like a statue, except for the slight tilt to his head as he watched Andrew with dark eyes.  
  
‘Took you long enough,’ he said.  
  
‘So impatient,’ Andrew replied.  
  
He quickly fixed a few settings on his camera,  
but it looked like a few of Neil’s settings had dropped by the time he looked up again.   
  
There was now an uncertainty to Neil’s eyes.  
  
‘Can I really draw you again?’  
  
‘It’s just a drawing,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘Like this is just a photo?’  
  
Suddenly, Andrew saw the ferris wheel, the flashing lights, the great height.  
  
_So you want to remember me?  
_  
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Andrew replied flatly.  
  
But Neil wouldn’t let go.  
  
Andrew wasn’t sure if Neil was holding onto his hands to keep him from falling,  
or pulling at his legs to drag him down.  
  
‘This isn’t just a photo,’ Neil said. ‘As you said, you want to remember this. You want to remember this feeling.’  
  
Don’t say it,   
Andrew’s mind whispered.  
  
But when had Neil ever listened to safety warnings?  
  
He was the type of guy who’d ride a ferris wheel and didn’t care for the instability or danger.  
All he cared about was the view at the top  
and the feeling of weightlessness.  
  
‘You want to remember the feeling of fal-’  
  
Andrew’s hand closed around Neil’s neck.  
  
He didn’t press too hard.  
But hard enough.  
  
‘Another word and I’ll leave _permanent_ damage,’ Andrew threatened.  
  
‘Andrew!’ Nicky exclaimed, moving to them, but Andrew held out his hand.   
A warning.  
One that Nicky heeded, because he knew not to go on rides that were dangerous.  
  
Yet Neil didn’t back down.  
If anything, he pressed back against Andrew’s grip.  
  
‘I think you already did,’ he said.  
  
Andrew glared at Neil,  
the beat of the deafeningly loud music pounding in sync with his heart.  
  
He flexed his fingers slightly, feeling Neil’s heartbeat spike underneath his fingers.  
  
It was the truth  
and he hated Neil for it.  
  
The little shit had told the truth.  
  
Andrew released his grip on Neil’s neck  
and when Neil didn’t move,  
let his hand fall down.  
  
There were angry red marks on Neil’s neck.  
But there was no anger in his blue eyes.  
  
Red and blue.  
Purple.  
  
Andrew lifted his camera and took the shot.  
  
x  
  
Kevin and Nicky stumbled inside the house,  
Nicky’s hand slapping the wall in search of the switch.  
  
When he finally found it, his triumphant ‘ _Aha_!’ turned into ‘ _Aaah_!’ because of the sudden flash of light.   
  
Meanwhile Kevin seemed to have given up walking, crawling the last couple of inches towards the couch.   
  
‘This is your house?’ Neil asked, hovering behind Andrew.  
  
Andrew looked over his shoulder.  


Neil hadn’t even crossed the threshold yet.  
  
Oh Neil.  
When would he learn that he was already miles over the lines Andrew had drawn in the sand?  
  
‘It’s ours,’ Andrew confirmed.  
  
Neil’s eyes flickered to Andrew, a question swirling in the blue.    
  
But all he asked was,  
‘Somewhere I can draw?’  
  
Andrew nodded and led them upstairs, the sounds of Nicky and Kevin’s drunken argument fading away into the background.  
  
With a kick of his foot, Andrew shut the door behind Neil  
and then leaned against the doorpost, watching as Neil took in the room.  
  
Neil walked past the desk, a few printed out photographs still lying there.  
All of buildings.  
  
Neil picked one up  
and looked at the stark, dark lines against the grey sky before putting it down again.  
  
He wandered towards the framed prints leaning against the wall.    
All of buildings.    
  
Neil shifted a few left and right to look at them, before also putting those down.    
  
Finally, his attention shifted to the bed.  
  
‘There?’ Neil said, looking over his shoulder at Andrew.  
  
‘Is that a question?’  
  
Neil breathed out.  
  
‘No. Can you sit over there?’  
  
Andrew didn’t move.    
Instead he asked,  
‘What should I take off?’  
  
There was a small hitch in Neil’s breathing, a quiet sound, before he was all business again.  
  
‘Your shirt.’  
  
Andrew raised an eyebrow.  
He thought Neil claimed  _ everything _ .  
  
‘And?’  
  
‘Your pants,’ Neil added.  
  
Grasping the edge of his shirt, making sure Neil’s eyes were watching, Andrew lifted his shirt over his head.  
  
Rolling his shoulders, Andrew was pleased to gradually see  _ less _ blue in Neil’s eyes.  
  
Then his hands dropped to his belt.  
So did Neil’s gaze.  
  
Without much flourish,  
but just slowly enough,  
Andrew unbuttoned his jeans and stepped out of them, kicking his shoes and socks somewhere behind him.  
  
Standing in his black boxers and armbands,  
Andrew looked Neil in the eyes and asked,  
‘And?’  
  
‘This is fine,’ Neil said, voice thin.  
  
He’d unconsciously stopped at Andrew’s limit.  
  
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, thick and heady, before Neil gestured towards the bed. He quickly dragged the desk chair opposite it.   
  
Andrew sat on the edge of the bed and watched Neil pull out the expensive sketchbook and a pencil.  
  
When he was settled, Neil looked up at him and said, ‘Lean forward on your knees.’  
  
‘No please?’  
  
‘You either do it, or you don’t. The way I ask isn’t going to change that,’ Neil answered practically.  
  
Andrew leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  
  
Observing him critically, Neil scooted his chair back a little and tilted his head this way and that.  
But he was apparently not satisfied because he resolutely moved the chair back and sat down on the ground.  
  
‘Yes,’ he murmured, eyes darker than usual as he stared at Andrew.  
  
It was strange.  
While Neil’s pencil started flying over the paper, creating more and more lines,  
Andrew felt more grounded than ever.   
  
Every time he looked at him  
Neil’s dark eyes were pinning him to the bed,  
keeping him in place.  
  
For a  _ breathless _ second Andrew wanted it to be Neil’s hands.  
  
Then he shoved the thought away.  
  
But after a while, the silence became something more.   
It became less the silence people usually had around him,  
uncomfortable, judging, and more often than not, scared.   
  
It was a silence Andrew hadn’t known before.  
  
A silence that touched him without hands,  
a silence that soothed him without words.   
  
It was a silence that made it easier to breathe,  
while all Andrew wanted was to hold his breath.  
  
Every time Neil looked up, his gaze burned through him.  
  
Andrew wanted Neil’s hot breath in his mouth.  
  
Yet Neil didn’t get distracted, his focus so intense that his hair was nearly falling into his eyes and yet he didn’t brush it away, hand flying over the paper.  
  
Andrew wished the scratches of the pencil  
were nails over his back.  
  
Never mind that he couldn’t. _  
_ He  _ wanted _ .  
  
Finally  
Neil’s hand dropped the pencil.  
  
He shook it.  
  
‘Cramped?’ Andrew asked.  
  
A sheepish smile settled briefly on Neil’s face.    
It caught both of them by surprise.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Neil admitted. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever put this much focus into a drawing.’    
  
He looked Andrew over once more. It was a semi-casual look.  
Not too intruding, and not intruding enough.  
  
‘You okay?’ Neil asked.  
  
Andrew leaned back on his arms.  
  
‘I haven’t done anything yet.’   
  
‘Yet?’  
  
‘My hands are perfectly fine,’ Andrew said.  
  
Suggested.  
  
This time, Neil’s silence was outright confusion.  
  
Andrew ought to take a picture.  
  
‘That’s… good?’ Neil eventually settled on.  
  
‘It can be,’ Andrew agreed.  
  
It was like he was looking through a camera with an x-ray function.    
Because he saw the question marks floating around Neil’s brain.  
  
It was suddenly joined by one exclamation mark.  
  
‘Are-’ Neil stopped. Rephrased. ‘You want to give me a handjob?’  
  
What a poet.  
  
‘Yes,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘I- But-’ Neil stopped again. ‘Why?’  
  
Not the most common response.  
  
Andrew wanted to say it was only a handjob,  
but instead decided to let this strange silence speak for him.  
  
Neil opened and closed his mouth a few more times, but no words made it out  
until he finally put away his sketchbook and moved to his feet.   
  
Then, the most important word.  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
Andrew reached out  
and dragged Neil closer by his belt.  
  
It was satisfying to know _ he _ had put these dark, tight pants on Neil  
and was now also the one taking them off.  
  
It felt like justice.   
It felt like  _ claiming.  
  
_ Andrew quickly pushed the thought,  
and Neil’s pants,  
away  
and hooked his fingers in the waistband of Neil’s boxers.  
  
To his satisfaction, Neil was already hard.  
  
‘Yes?’ Andrew asked, looking up.  
  
Eyes wide, like he was still shocked by the idea, Neil looked down at him before clearing his throat  
and repeating, ‘Yes.’  
  
Andrew pulled the boxers down.  
  
Neil’s hands twitched at his sides.  
  
Though Andrew could put his hand around something much more worthwhile, he reached out and grabbed Neil’s hand.   
  
He didn’t normally do this.  
  
But when Neil let out a sigh and closed his fingers around his hand,  
Andrew thought it wasn’t so bad if it helped Neil that much.  
  
Then he wrapped his hand around Neil’s dick and gave it a few gentle strokes.  
  
Neil’s hips bucked forward involuntarily.  
  
Sensitive.  
But not good enough.   
  
Looking in Neil’s barely blue eyes, Andrew removed his hand and licked a strip up his palm and fingers.   
  
Neil’s breath caught.  
  
Having a slicker grip now, Andrew started jerking Neil off at a reasonable tempo. Fast enough to make Neil’s breathing come out in harsh puffs, not fast enough to end it too quickly.  
  
Funny.    
He  _ had _ wanted to end this quickly.  
And now he didn’t.    
  
Andrew slowed down his hand and swiped a thumb over the head, teasingly smearing precome around until Neil’s hips were twitching with the effort of holding back.

Still not good enough.   
  
Andrew wanted Neil to fall.   
  
So he stopped teasing and gripped Neil’s dick tightly in his hand.    
  
Neil gasped in response,  
but Andrew paid it no mind as he started moving his hand in an unforgiving rhythm.  
  
Fast, fast, faster.  
  
Neil was gripping Andrew’s hand tightly.  
It hurt a little.   
  
But everything about them had a sharp edge.  
  
A dangerously addicting pain.  
Love, everybody.  
  
_ No _ .  
  
Irritated at his thoughts, Andrew let go of Neil’s hand and gripped Neil’s hip instead,  
pulling him closer.  
  
He ghosted a kiss over Neil’s hip,  
wanting to lose himself in the arousal,  
wanting the heat of Neil’s skin to burn away the words that nearly spilled over his lips.  
  
Judging by Neil’s gasps and moans, he was close.   
  
The room was now not only filled with photographs  
but also with struggling breaths of air  
and the slick sounds of Neil’s dick.   
  
‘ _ Andrew _ ,’ Neil groaned.    
  
A warning.   
If only he’d been warned sooner.  
  
It was hot, feeling Neil tremble underneath his fingers,  
hearing him gasp with every twist of his wrist.  
  
Andrew’s dick throbbed in his jeans, and he wanted to touch himself. He refrained, instead looking up.   
  
A mistake.  
  
Neil’s dark eyes,  
the blue now a mere outline,  
were looking at him too.    
  
And they said exactly what Andrew was so afraid to hear.  
  
That he was no longer alone.  
That he had pulled Neil over the edge too.   
  
‘ _ I’m _ -’ Neil cut himself off, eyes rolling back and hips jerking forward as he came over Andrew’s hand and arm.  
  
And then it was just Neil’s heaving breaths filling the room.  
  
Andrew wasn’t sure what burned more,  
the come, or the truth he’d seen in Neil’s eyes.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; "You photographed me. For distance." 
> 
> I both really like and dislike that last sentence lmao. It was one of those sentences where my brain was like,, no,, you gotta,, Hihi.
> 
> ALSO did you KNOW that we don't say "burns into your eyes" in Dutch, but "burns into your retina" ?? we specific like that,, anyway, I had a discussion with my beta about this and I agree that retina is a lame word so let's call it eyecoat from now on
> 
> THANKS FOR READING! <3 And let me know what you thought of this chapter, if you want to :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> Today, I started playing Oxenfree again BUT THE SECOND PLAYTHROUGH CONTINUES WHERE THE FIRST ONE LEFT OFF??? WHAT??  
> That's so flippin' cool. 
> 
> Anyways, let's see if Andrew's cool about jerking Neil off :)

Those blue eyes were now closed,  
and Neil’s previously ragged breaths were now calm and even.  
  
Lying on his side, Andrew watched Neil in the early morning light.  
  
_What about you?_ Neil had asked yesterday, after he finally claimed enough air, not seeming to mind that it was at the expense of Andrew’s.  
  
Throat feeling closed off, Andrew had answered tightly,  
_No._  
  
If he allowed Neil to touch him, he knew his dick wouldn’t be the only thing spilling.  
  
Sitting up, Andrew took a deep breath.  
Just for fun.  
He watched his bare knees for a few seconds, trying to push away the memories of yesterday.  
  
But they weren’t photos he could delete.  
  
His mind kept showing him dark, dark eyes,  
Neil’s teeth nearly biting through his own lip  
and their hands, tightly intertwined.  
  
Though, the way Neil had _gripped_ Andrew’s hand felt less like the romantic gesture and more like he was holding onto his last lifeline.  
Like Andrew’s hand was the only thing keeping him from falling over the edge.  
  
It was a feeling Andrew knew well.  
  
He looked over his shoulder at Neil, who was still sleeping soundly.  
Andrew’s hand sank a little into the mattress.  
  
Was this the feeling of the end of the fall?  
A mattress?  
  
Was this the result of not falling alone?  
  
Heart beating loudly in his chest, Andrew pushed himself off the bed and quickly got dressed.  
  
His phone buzzed when he was pouring milk into his cereal.

[From: Aaron]  
I just saved someone’s life.  
  
Andrew carefully put down the milk.  
  
[From: Andrew]  
Isn’t that what doctors do?  
  
The answer took a while.  
Andrew had already devoured half of his cereal before his phone buzzed again.  
  
[From: Aaron]  
I’m just an intern, I’m not qualified to operate, but I. I was walking past the emergency ward and someone had collapsed and I knew how to do CPR so I just… did.  
  
From the way he was texting, namely _a lot_ , Andrew could tell Aaron was shaken by the event.  
  
[From: Andrew]  
Take your own advice. Breathe.  
  
Again, the answer took a while.  
  
[From: Aaron]  
You photographed me. For distance.  
  
That was true.  
Andrew was tempted not to answer, but before he could put away his phone and the cereal bowl, his phone buzzed again.  
  
[From: Aaron]  
Do you want to change that?  
  
[From: Andrew]  
Not done giving CPR?  
  
[From: Aaron]  
I guess  
  
Hm.  
  
[From: Andrew]  
Okay  
  
‘Who the fuck are you texting?’ Nicky groaned from the couch, where he and Kevin had fallen asleep last night. ‘I know it can’t be your boyfriend, ‘cause he’s in the same house.’  
  
Andrew moved to the sink and rinsed out his bowl.  
  
‘Aaron,’ he answered.  
  
The couch creaked. Nicky sitting up, most likely. ‘What did he want? Is he okay?’  
  
‘He wants to be friends.’  
  
‘He wants _what_ now?’  
  
‘ _He_ wants some peace and quiet,’ Kevin complained, throwing a pillow half-heartedly at Nicky’s head. ‘Shut up, it’s too early for this.’  
  
Oh well, in that case Andrew had to make sure he told Nicky _everything_.

‘Aaron saved someone’s life today.’  
  
Nicky’s puffy eyes nearly bulged out of his head. ‘What?! They let him operate? Why would they—’  
  
‘No,’ Andrew interrupted him, ‘It happened in the emergency ward.’  
  
But before he could explain more, there were footsteps on the stairs  
and then Neil Josten appeared in the living room.  
  
‘What’s going on?’  
  
He sounded more awake than Nicky and Kevin put together.  
  
‘Aaron saved someone’s life today!’ Nicky exclaimed, his voice cracking halfway through. ‘We should celebrate this or something. Aaron saving lives, Andrew finally getting laid-’  
  
‘If you can talk, you can get cleaned up,’ Andrew interrupted him. ‘I’m driving back in thirty minutes.’  
  
While Nicky quickly scrambled off the couch, kicking Kevin at least twice judging by the offended sounds, Andrew walked past Neil without looking at him.  
  
x  
  
Hall looked at the photo Andrew had submitted for the assignment.  
  
Andrew didn’t need to look.  
  
Just like his camera,  
his mind had remembered the way Neil had looked at him, coloured purple,  
coloured in Andrew’s fingerprints, the angry marks on his neck just visible in the neon light.  
  
He remembered how Neil’s eyes had stared at him, refusing to back down or look away. Refusing to let go.  
  
‘It’s kind of angry, isn’t it?’ Hall murmured.  
  
Accurate.  
Andrew _was_ angry.  
  
Angry that he was losing sight of the edge of the building.  
Angry that his fingers probably couldn’t ever catch hold of the ledge again.  
  
The only way now  
was down.  
  
Next to him, Professor Hall hummed. 'Judging by this photo, I’m going to make an educated guess that you’re not going to like my next assignment,’ he said with a strange half-smile on his face.  
  
‘You assume I liked the others,’ Andrew replied.  
  
Hall laughed. ‘Fair enough.’  
  
x  
  
Renee sat her tray down in front of him, before climbing onto the picnic bench. Andrew watched as she started eating that green shit Kevin always ate, then continued eating his donut.  
  
Sometimes, he made all the right choices in life.  
  
It wasn’t that he didn’t like vegetables,  
he just liked sweets more.  
Just like he didn’t mind the idea of Neil’s hand or mouth wrapped around his dick.  
He just liked jerking Neil off more.  
Seeing _him_ lose his breath for once.  
  
‘You okay?’ Renee interrupted his thoughts. ‘You look a little…’  
  
‘Angry?’ Andrew filled in for her, echoing Hall’s words.  
  
But Renee shook her head. ‘No… Very tired, I’d say.’  
  
Tired?  
Was he?  
  
‘I know how it feels,’ she continued, though she didn’t sound like she was pitying him. Just understanding. ‘Some days, you’re just so tired of fighting.’  
  
Oh.  
  
All of Andrew’s thoughts halted for a few seconds.  
  
Opposite him, Renee took a sip of her smoothie. Giving Andrew some time to think.  
  
Tired of fighting.  
Fighting what?  
  
No, no, Andrew didn’t have to ask himself that question.  
  
Anyone would be exhausted after hanging onto the edge of a tall building with just one hand,  
with just a few fingers.  
Desperately clinging to the last few seconds of stability.

‘There’s many things to be angry about,’ Andrew said finally. Evading her question.  
  
Renee nodded. 'That’s true.’ She took another sip of her drink, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked Andrew in the eyes. ‘But being angry all the time is also very exhausting, isn’t it?’  
  
Yes.  
  
It’s why Andrew had decided to bury all that anger deep inside him and go with the flow.  
Set boundaries for himself and others, and wander through life trying to find something that would make him lose his breath.  
  
But Neil Josten couldn’t be that something.  
  
The words sounded vaguely familiar.  
Andrew realized he’d said them before.  
  
_I’m not that something._  
  
Neil’s answer echoed through his mind.  
  
_No, you’re somebody._  
  
x  
  
The last class of the day was, of course, Hall’s.  
  
As soon as Andrew saw the hippie glasses on Hall’s face, he knew that "not liking" the next assignment was an understatement.  
  
It was almost too much of an effort to look the man in his multicoloured eyes.  
  
At least he wasn’t wearing anything tie dyed.  
  
‘Since we’re nearing the end of the term, I wanted to give you all an assignment that would ease your minds. Make you focus on the _positive_ , rather than the negative or the abstract.’  
  
If the assignment was world peace, Andrew would quit this school.  
  
‘That’s why your assignment for the next week is…’  Hall looked around with a grin on his face, while some pretentious fuckwad started drumming his fingers on the desk. ‘Peace!’  
  
Oh for fuck’s sake.  
  
Andrew wasn’t one to speak up in class, but he couldn’t let this go.  
  
‘Peace is different for everyone,’ he called through the room.  
  
‘That’s a very valid point, Mr. Minyard, and I agree. For some, it’s grand and all-consuming, something they spend their lives fighting for. For others, it’s a small gesture, something that can easily be missed when you’re not looking for it.’  
  
‘Yah, _duh_ ,’ the student in front of Andrew said, turning around to look at Andrew over the top of her ridiculous hipster glasses. Which she probably didn’t even need. ‘Isn’t that the case with _all_ our assignments? They’re all subjective, because all art is personal.’  
  
‘Let’s see if you think it’s art when I paint a picture in your blood,’ Andrew replied calmly. ‘I know I would.’  
  
The girl visibly paled, eyes wide and scared, before she quickly turned around again.  
  
‘Try to define what peace means to you,’ Hall continued, ‘and then catch it with your art.’  
  
x  
  
On the way back to his car, Andrew chose to walk through the corridor which held the painting classes.  
  
There was a slim chance he would— The door to his left opened and students started pouring out. Andrew paid them no mind, but then he suddenly heard a familiar voice.  
  
‘You need to grow some eyes, you piece of shit.’  
  
Neil Josten walked into the corridor,  
followed closely by a guy with blonde hair and a sneer.  
  
‘Well _everyone_ can see all you do is copy shit,’ the guy said.  
  
Though Andrew couldn’t hear Neil’s sigh, he could see it.  
Could see the impatient shift to Neil’s eyes,  
and the tension in his shoulders.  
The way his hand was clutching his sketchbook like his life depended on it.  
  
‘It’s called using references,’ Neil said. ‘You should try it sometimes. Maybe you’ll accidentally make some art.’  
  
Anger seemed to shoot through the blonde guy, and for a second it looked like he was going to take a swing at Neil.  
  
In that second, Andrew made a decision.  
  
He moved to stand behind Neil,  
and stared the guy straight in the eyes.  
  
When the guy noticed Andrew, he wisely seemed to put a halt to his immediate anger.  
  
‘You’re a dick,’ he spat at Neil. ‘And your art is shit.’  
  
‘Please don’t use me as a mirror,’ Neil replied.  
  
Blonde jerk opened his mouth to retort some other bullshit, but then his eyes nervously shifted to Andrew again, who met his gaze head-on, and he seemed to change his mind.  
  
Without a word, he turned around and stalked away.  
  
As soon as he was out of sight, Neil sighed.  
  
‘Jerk,’ he murmured.  
  
‘Don’t be a hypocrite, Neil,’ Andrew replied boredly.  
  
A small laugh escaped Neil, but it ended just as quickly as it began.  
  
Slowly, the other students filtered out of the corridor,  
until it was just them.  
  
Through the windows, Andrew could see the sun hanging low in the sky.  
  
Soon, the corridor would be painted in different shades of orange.  
  
But right now,  
there was only one shade of orange Andrew was interested in.  
  
He dragged his gaze back to Neil, who stood almost motionless in the hallway.  
  
Andrew wanted to touch,  
but he didn’t want to touch.  
  
_Some days, you’re just so tired of fighting._  
  
Andrew could feel it.  
Could feel how heavy his hand and arms and legs felt.  
How heavy his head was.  
  
Neil sighed.  
  
And again,  
in those few seconds where all the fight seemed to leave Neil,  
Andrew made a decision.  
  
He stepped forward until his chest was pressing lightly against Neil’s back.  
  
The touch was warm,  
barely there.  
  
Andrew didn’t hold his breath.  
  
He wanted to keep breathing.  
  
Slowly, Neil leaned back into him.  
Just a little.  
Definitely not using his whole weight, though Andrew was sure he could handle it.  
  
Did he want to handle it?  
  
The thought drifted away again,  
painted over by the silence until everything was the same colour.  
  
Until the sun’s warm orange rays touched their heads,  
their chests  
and lastly their hands.  
  
They stood like that,  
together.  
  
Not fighting.  
Just breathing.  
  
x  
  
Andrew knew he could easily ask Kevin or Nicky.  
  
Instead, while the teacher droned on and on about compositions, he picked up his phone.  
  
It was a boring lecture, because self-composed shots were boring.  
If it was too neatly arranged, it was uninteresting to look at; if it was artsily messed up, it was pretentious.  
  
The perfect composition was a coincidence.  
  
It was when you took a picture out of spite,  
only to find yourself falling into blue eyes.  
  
[From: Andrew]  
What’s peace?  
  
[From: Aaron]  
There’s a thing called google.  
  
[From: Andrew]  
Hello google.  
  
Silence.  
  
Andrew felt the corners of his mouth twitch as he could almost picture Aaron’s deadpan glare. His scoff while he was having an internal battle about whether or not to humor Andrew.  
  
_Buzz._  
  
[From: Aaron]  
I guess peace would be the absence of war… the absence of conflict and violence  
  
Hm.  
Andrew put his phone at his lips as he thought about the words.  
  
Wrong, his mind told him.  
  
That definition barely covered it.  
It felt like the absence of those things was a prerequisite for peace.  
  
If that was all it took for peace, then he and Aaron should’ve been best friends forever already.  
But they weren’t.  
  
Because the absence of violence and conflict wasn’t enough for peace. Not for Andrew at least.  
  
[From: Aaron]  
Don’t I get a fucking response?  
  
[From: Andrew]  
Google doesn’t either  
  
x  
  
‘Soooo,’ Nicky started. Always a bad sign. Andrew quickly stuffed his mouth full with nuggets. ‘What’s your assignment?’  
  
‘The fall of humankind,’ Kevin said with disgust, like someone had suggested they eat at McDonalds.  
  
‘I wasn’t asking you, but _what_ ?’ Nicky asked.  
  
‘I know,’ Kevin said. ‘My teacher is so inadequate. If she’s into sci-fi that’s… well, I wouldn’t say _fine_ , but I guess it’s one way to pass the time. But to bring your personal bias into the classroom, a _learning_ environment.’  
  
‘Shocking,’ Nicky agreed, nodding. ‘One would think art is subjective.’  
  
‘Right?’ Kevin said.  
  
‘I was totally kidding there.’  
  
Kevin frowned and ignored Nicky’s statement.  
  
Wonderful how that worked.  
You just ignored what you didn’t like.  
  
If only that had worked with Neil.  
  
‘How am I going to paint something that is the fall of humankind, when there hasn’t _been_ a fall of humankind?’  
  
‘So what’s your assignment?’ Nicky asked Andrew.  
  
The ignoring thing worked both ways.  
  
‘Peace,’ Andrew said.  
  
‘Huh, that’s another vague and abstract one.’  
  
‘Hall said he’d specifically picked it because it wasn’t abstract,’ Andrew said boredly.  
  
‘All teachers lie,’ Kevin said, sounding betrayed.  
  
Nicky rolled his eyes. ‘Calm down there edgelord.’  
  
In response, Kevin just stabbed his fork into a piece of lettuce and started eating it angrily.  
  
Andrew watched him for a few moments before asking, ‘What’s peace?’  
  
Nicky hummed.  
  
‘I think it’s a world where there’s no violence, where no one does another person harm… But also that people care for each other, you know? That we do selfless acts just because we want to make another person do better, or feel better.’  
  
Hm.  
But.  
  
‘Do you think people can really be selfless?’  
  
‘No,’ Kevin answered immediately. ‘There’s always something to gain. We do things for others because it’ll benefit us.’  
  
‘Yeah but what if it means we’ll be more at peace too?’ Nicky said. ‘What if we do things for others so they are more at peace, and if they do the same in return, aren’t we all basically creating a peaceful world? Isn’t that selfless?’  
  
Kevin seemed to think this over.  
  
‘No,’ Andrew said before Kevin could. ‘Because we want to be at peace. That’s a selfish thought.’  
  
‘So that means being a little selfish isn’t wrong,’ Nicky concluded.  
  
Kevin, however, looked at Andrew with raised eyebrows.  
  
‘Since when do you want to be at peace?’  
  
‘Don’t act like you know me,’ Andrew replied boredly.  
  
If he had,  
he wouldn’t have asked the question.  
  
_Some days, you’re just so tired of fighting.  
  
_ x  
  
Andrew saw Renee when he was walking towards his car.  
  
‘Hey,’ she greeted him softly.  
  
He nodded at her once in response.  
  
‘Do you want to visit the center I volunteer at?’ she asked him.  
  
Did he?  
Not really.  
  
Andrew had enough of Hall on a good day.  
  
Renee must’ve seen his reluctance, because she smiled and said, ‘If it’ll ease your mind, you can give me a lift. I need to be there in forty minutes anyway.’  
  
Andrew didn’t mind driving.  
  
He nodded, and Renee’s smile didn’t become bigger or smaller.  
It was just the same, friendly smile.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; ‘I don’t need to see children finger painting,’ Andrew said dismissively. 
> 
> Aahh, we're getting closer to the end now, believe it or not :O Just a 3 or 4 more chapters!! BUT yeah. Peace huh. Thanks to Mex (rnyanlync) and Marichatshipper for the suggestion of "peace" !! <3 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter, if you want, and thank you so so much for reading again <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> ♫ It's not the waking, it's the rising ♪
> 
> ANYWAYs I finished the story, so the upload schedule is going up up up! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Oh, Andrew recognized those stares.   
  
As he followed Renee into the center—because what was the harm in looking?—he felt a painful pang in his chest as he looked around.  
  
It felt like he was back in the mirror maze,  
his own detached stare reflected a dozen times in the eyes of all the teenagers around him.  
  
Well.   
They weren’t really teenagers anymore.  
  
They’d officially passed the invisible mark and now qualified as adults.   
  
Bullshit.  
  
The only requirement for growing up was to keep breathing,   
and as Neil Josten had so aptly put it  
_“breathing isn’t living”_.   
  
How could they qualify for something they’d never known they would reach?  
  
If you’d been beaten cripple,  
would you prepare for the off chance you might walk again?   
  
Only fools would.  
  
Andrew was about to turn back,  
knowing better than to surround himself with these thoughts,  
when Hall spotted them.  
  
‘Andrew?’ he called out.  
  
For a second, Andrew mourned the fact that Aaron was in Canada,  
if only so he could now pretend to be someone else and quickly escape the youth center.  
  
‘Hi professor,’ Renee called back.  
  
Hall walked up to them,  
and Andrew took the few quiet seconds to peer at the classroom-style space Hall had exited.   
  
Inside, people were bent over pieces of paper and canvasses as they painted their feelings. Or something.  
  
‘Come to look around?’ Hall asked.  
  
‘Oh no,’ Renee said quickly, when Andrew didn’t answer. ‘I asked Andrew to give me a ride here.’  
  
At this, Hall eyed her with a certain glint in his eyes that— ‘Aha,’ he said slowly, a smile forming on his face. ‘I see how it is.’  
  
It really wasn’t any of his business.  
  
Andrew’s sexuality wasn’t something Hall needed to know. Neither was the fact that Andrew had smashed his lips to Neil’s more than once,   
or that he’d wrapped his hands around Neil’s dick  
and watched those same lips breathe nothing but his name—  
  
Stop.  
  
Andrew shifted his stance.   
He was itching to correct Hall.   
  
_Why?_  
  
Meanwhile, the silence lasted for another few seconds until Hall chuckled.   
  
‘I’m sorry, kids, it isn’t any of my business.’ Hall pointed behind him. ‘Want to check out what we’re doing?’  
  
Renee hummed and quickly checked the time before giving Andrew a neutral look, which told him it was his call.  
Considerate.  
  
‘I don’t need to see children finger painting,’ Andrew said dismissively.   
  
‘Maybe you _do_ need to come closer,’ Hall joked. ‘They are holding brushes, Andrew.’  
  
There was an awkward silence as nobody laughed but Hall.   
  
He scraped his throat when he realized his joke hadn’t landed, and added, ‘I think it might be nice for them to talk to someone from my course.’  
  
‘I don’t do painting.’  
  
‘That’s okay. An artist’s perspective is more important than the medium they express themselves with.’  
  
_Was it?_

Andrew wondered.  
  
He’d chosen knives to express his _perspective_ ,  
had used them to draw red paintings into his arms.  
  
Over  
and over  
and over and over again  
until he had to paint it all black to cover it up.  
  
Was that less important?  
  
‘I promise you these kids aren’t scary,’ Hall said. ‘They’re just lost.’  
  
Andrew resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and gestured with his hand to the classroom.  
  
‘Show us the monkeys, professor.’  
  
x  
  
Walking around, Andrew noticed most paintings were done in one colour.   
  
Though there were different shades of blue, red, and orange,  
scenes and abstract shapes alike were all painted with just one colour. 

‘What you looking at?’ one kid snapped when Andrew peered at his canvas.  
  
‘A mess,’ Andrew answered drily.   
  
The swirls of black were really nothing more than random shapes.  
  
‘Fuck off,’ the kid spat. ‘You don’t know shit.’  
  
Maybe.  
  
But Andrew knew the feeling of being stuck in one colour.  
Of seeing the same shade in different intensities,  
never knowing if it would be a dark or a light day.  
  
Just that it was the same story,  
the same colour,  
every day.  
  
Andrew walked over to Renee, who was talking to a girl with red streaks in her dark hair.  
  
Looking at the girl’s canvas, the red seemed to be a theme.  
  
‘You never knew what was going to happen next, you know?’ the girl continued to Renee. ‘What mood he would be in. I had to restrain so much of my anger. I had to hide so much of who I was, just to exist in that house.’  
  
‘And now you can let it out,’ Renee said softly.  
  
‘Yes.’ The girl smiled at her. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without my art.’   
  
‘I do wonder…’ Renee started, looking at the canvas. At the house painted in angry reds. ‘Why do you keep reliving the same situation? Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s admirable that you’re trying to process these feelings, but… You told me you’ve been coming here for a year now, right?’   
  
The girl nodded.  
  
‘Then… Don’t you think it’s time to find a place for these feelings?’  
  
Silence.  
The girl started fiddling with a strand of her badly dyed hair.  
  
‘I don’t know…’ she mumbled. ‘I’ve just been feeling so angry, _all the time_ .’  
  
Andrew saw Renee’s gaze flicker to him as she said,   
‘Exhausting isn’t it?’  
  
The girl sighed. ‘Yeah.’  
  
‘I’m not telling you what to do,’ Renee continued softly. ‘But maybe it’s time to find some peace for a change. Try to get past these events by letting go of that anger and focussing on different things.’   
  
The girl looked at the painting in front of her,  
and asked only one thing.   
  
‘How?’  
  
But before Renee could answer, Andrew grabbed the nearest paint bottle,  
decidedly ignoring it was _blue_ ,  
and put it in front of her.   
  
‘Paint with different colours,’ he said flatly.  
  
Because that was also what brought peace.   
If not to the world, then at least to yourself.   
  
It wasn’t just the absence of violence or anger,  
it was the ability to manage that anger, to see it as something you could _change_ .  
  
To paint with more than one colour,  
to focus on more than one perspective.  
  
To maybe even express yourself with more than one medium.  
  
A prickly sensation in the back of Andrew’s neck told him someone was watching him.   
  
When he turned around,  
he wasn’t surprised to see Hall watching him with a smile on his face.  
  
x  
  
Andrew only needed to knock once  
before Neil opened the door.  
  
Holding a large spoon in his hand,  
he looked surprised.  
  
‘Is that for ice cream?’ Andrew asked.  
  
‘Huh?’ Neil blinked. ‘Oh. Oh no, it’s for soup.’  
  
Silence.  
They stared at each other for a few seconds before Neil realized he should do something. He moved to the side to let Andrew in.   
  
The small apartment was filled with the smell of tomatoes.  
  
Andrew spotted the red, boiling and bubbling in a pan on the stove.  
  
‘I can’t really cook,’ Neil explained.  
  
Not Andrew’s problem,  
but.  
  
‘You’re supposed to stir it, Josten.’  
  
‘I know that,’ Neil said, waving the spoon around. ‘I was just about to.’  
  
Andrew motioned Neil to just fucking go for it.   
  
Neil gave him a Look, the little shit, before moving to the stove and stirring the spoon through the soup like he wanted the walls to be painted with it.  
  
With two steps, Andrew stood behind Neil,  
leaving only a few inches between them.  
  
‘Slowly,’ he said in a low voice.  
  
Neil froze.  
  
_Really._  
  
‘Too slow,’ Andrew said sarcastically.  
  
But Neil didn’t respond.  
  
He did, however, lean back a little.   
  
His back touched Andrew’s chest softly,  
and then Neil was already pulling back.  
  
That was fine.  
Neil should.  
He should pull back, go away, get the fuck out of Andrew’s life.   
  
But as Andrew watched the red hot soup, he was reminded of the red drawings of the girl with the red streaks in her hair.  
  
What was peace?   
To not focus on anger all the time.  
  
‘Stay,’ Andrew said.  
  
For a moment, the only sounds in the living room were the boiling soup,  
the slow hum of the stove  
and Neil’s short and sharp intake of breath.  
  
Then he leaned back against Andrew.  
  
‘Slowly,’ Andrew said.  
  
He meant the soup  
and _this_.  
  
x

‘Oh,’ Neil said, after he’d poured the soup into a bowl. ‘Do you want some?’  
  
The corners of Andrew’s mouth twitched.  
  
Oh, Neil.   
You should finish your sentences.  
  
‘That depends,’ he said.  
  
Neil’s face was blank. ‘On what?’  
  
Another twitch.   
If Andrew wasn’t careful, he might smile.  
  
x  
  
Andrew didn’t need to see Hall’s looks during class to know Hall was worried about Andrew’s assignment.   
  
It had been a week already,  
a week of trying to figure out what the fuck peace would look like,  
captured.  
  
Andrew felt that was exactly the problem  
as he carried the plastic bag over to Neil’s apartment and picked the lock, just because he could.   
  
When he opened the door, he saw Neil passed out on the couch, a book on impressionism over his face.   
The book had belonged to Kevin.     
  
Andrew snorted.   
  
For all their bickering — basically every time they were in the same room together — Kevin had started to teach Neil about painting.  
  
Andrew searched for a knife and cutting board, before unloading the plastic bag and starting to chop the vegetables he’d bought _only_ because he was sure Neil never bought them.   
  
Andrew wasn’t oblivious.   
He saw the way Kevin and Nicky reacted to Neil coming over. He saw how easily they greeted him,  
and how Neil felt less like an intruder every time he stepped into Andrew’s apartment.  
  
He saw Neil favouring the corner on the couch, the second chair on the left, and Andrew’s right pinkie finger.  
  
Andrew wasn’t oblivious.   
  
He knew he was letting Neil into the space called his life.  
Was letting him hold on, whenever Neil curled his hand gently around Andrew’s fingers.  
  
Andrew had just slapped the last layer of pasta onto the lasagna, when Neil stirred on the couch.  
  
A sharp intake of breath.   
Neil sitting up quickly.   
Then a relieved sigh.  
  
‘Oh,’ Neil said. ‘Andrew.’  
  
Crouching, while balancing the lasagna in one hand, Andrew opened the oven and shoved the pasta into it.  
  
Footsteps.  
  
When Andrew straightened, Neil was leaning against the counter behind him.   
  
They weren’t touching,  
but he could _feel_ Neil close to him.  
  
‘Mmm,’ Neil said, still sounding a little sleepy. ‘‘S been a long time since I had a home cooked meal.’  
  
Andrew wanted to point out that this apartment was borrowed,  
that it couldn’t possibly be Neil’s home.  
  
Instead he said, ‘Don’t get used to it.’  
  
Neil was quiet.  
So Andrew turned around,  
because as always Neil’s eyes spoke more than his mouth ever could.   
  
All those months ago, they had been right and Andrew had been stupid  
as he’d drawn a hand over Neil’s mouth.  
  
He should’ve blocked out the bright blue.  
  
Before it could seep through the cracks  
and fill them up.   
Fix the broken pieces, glue them back together again.  
  
Like someone wanted to see him whole again.  
  
Neil was looking at him.  
At all the pieces of him,  
his eyes flickering from Andrew’s eyes to his cheekbone, his hair, his shoulders, his lips.  
  
The smell of lasagna started warming up the room.  
  
Neil reached out his hand.  
  
A question.  
  
Andrew answered by gripping Neil’s wrist, and roughly pulling him closer before swallowing Neil’s surprised laugh with his lips.  
  
They kissed in the kitchen for a long time.   
  
Neil gently pushed Andrew back against the fridge,  
and Andrew let him  
because his hands were twisted in the front of Neil’s shirt, keeping a safe distance between their chests.  
  
It had the okay side effect of feeling Neil’s heart hammering in his chest.  
  
_Ping_ said the oven.  
  
Neil breathed out softly as he leaned back.  
  
Prying his fingers loose from Neil’s wrist, Andrew silently turned around and put dinner onto two plates.  
  
When he turned around, Neil had already put cutlery and two glasses of water on the table.  
  
‘Am I supposed to light any candles?’ Neil asked, when he noticed Andrew’s look as he set the plates down.  
  
‘You’re supposed to learn how to cook,’ Andrew shot back. ‘So I don’t have to.’  
  
‘Well, if your art fails, you can always work in a restaurant.’  
  
‘I don’t need my art to succeed.’  
  
Neil’s answer took a while.   
Partly, because he was devouring the lasagna.  
  
Must’ve gone without eating for a day.  
  
‘Wrong,’ Neil said finally. ‘You _do_ want your art to succeed. Just not necessarily in the art world.’  
  
Andrew’s eyes narrowed.  
  
‘But you want it to give you insight in life,’ Neil said. Not even giving Andrew the courtesy of voicing it as a question. ‘Into your fears and desires.’  
  
‘Keep it up and you can starve to death,’ Andrew replied.  
  
Neil merely continued eating.  
  
Because he was used to death threats,  
and because he knew Andrew wasn’t serious.  
  
The same, familiar anger gripped Andrew again as he realized he _wouldn’t_ let Neil starve, would actually try to prevent it.  
And then he let the anger go.  
  
Because he wouldn’t find peace like this.  
  
x  
  
‘Andrew,’ Hall started.  
  
‘Where’s your assignment? You have to hand it in today,’ Andrew droned, before Hall could. ‘Yeah, yeah.’   
  
He waved Hall’s concerned expression away.  
It didn’t work, but oh well.  
  
‘Relax, professor. I’m actually doing something with the assignment.’  
  
It was like he’d told Hall he’d had figured out a way to save the earth.  
Hall’s entire face lit up.  
  
‘Really? You’re digging deep for this one?’  
  
In a way.  
  
In a way, Andrew was digging deep within himself, digging past the anger and traumas and deadness  
to see if there was a space inside him that allowed for _peace_ .  
  
In another way, Andrew just hadn’t found the right shot yet.  
  
‘However, I am sorry,’ Hall said. ‘I already told the art classes they had a model for tomorrow. I figured you wouldn’t hand anything in tonight, but! I’ll let you hand in your assignment anyway, and grade it accordingly, so you won’t lose any points.’  
  
Andrew couldn’t care less about the fucking point system,  
but he did care that his time Friday would now be cut short.  
  
‘Does it have to be tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘We have to arrange the exhibition Friday evening.’  
  
They would still have time to get there, but it would be short.  
  
‘I’m sorry, Andrew,’ Hall said. ‘If you want, I can drive you to the exhibition after class.’  
  
‘No,’ Andrew said, already reaching for his phone.  
  
[From: Andrew]  
Have to model art class tomorrow afternoon.  
  
[From: Neil]  
You’ll be late for the appointment.  
  
[From: Andrew]  
I can drive fast.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; ‘Yes,’ was all Neil said, a little breathless.
> 
> Also! I feel the need to point out that Andrew's opinions are not always my own. I merely write what I think is his point of view/opinion. I, for one, wouldn't say it's foolish to hope for something, even if there's a slim chance it'll happen.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Let me know what you thought, if you want :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!!
> 
> Making good use of that mature rating by letting Andrew say "fuck" a lot this chapter. Also, that's it, that's what they're doing. 
> 
> TW: smut  
> (I suggest you stop reading at "So he said, ‘Yes.’"  
> AND pick up again at "'I feel like I could fall asleep now,' Neil murmured.") 
> 
> Enjoy!

‘This is so exciting!’ Nicky exclaimed, peering over Andrew’s shoulder.  
  
Andrew ignored him as he rearranged the printed photographs on their kitchen table.   
As he rearranged the story Neil’s eyes were telling.  
  
‘You’re going to be featured in a real exhibition!’  
  
Of course Kevin couldn’t stay behind when Nicky was doing such an excellent job of bothering Andrew.  
  
‘Are you sure these two go together?’ he said, pointing at the barely filled-in statue and the ferris wheel. ‘Don’t you think you should put the neon colours together?’  
  
‘Dunno, I like the contrast of the sun and the evening,’ Nicky said. ‘It’s interesting.’  
  
It was Neil.  
Of course it was interesting.  
  
Fuck.  
  
‘Fuck off,’ Andrew said to them, and his thoughts. ‘It’s not your exhibition.’  
  
‘No, you’re right,’ Nicky nodded. ‘It’s your and Neil’s exhibition.’  
  
‘No,’ Kevin scoffed. ‘They’re just featured in the same exhibition, but they aren’t doing this together.’  
  
It was like listening to his two last remaining brain cells.  
  
‘Come on,’ Nicky said, ‘every single piece in that exhibition is of them.’  
  
Oh.  
Nicky’s words shifted something inside Andrew, and suddenly he saw the story they were telling.  
  
The corners of his mouth twitched.  
  
It was disgusting how much sense it made.  
  
x  
  
Before Andrew could get on the stage and be drawn from every possible angle,  
he spotted Neil Josten leaning against the door frame.   
  
All these pretentious art students with pastel or neon hair,  
with piercings and tattoos and experimental clothes.   
  
And yet Andrew was drawn to Neil.   
  
But also,   
‘This is not your class. You’re supposed to be at the Sweetwine center.’  
  
Neil raised an eyebrow, faking surprise. ‘You’re saying I’m not allowed into the classroom?’  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
The corners of Neil’s mouth twitched.  
  
‘Too bad,’ he said. ‘I need the practice.’  
  
‘You don’t,’ Andrew said, but Neil wasn’t listening to him. He walked into the classroom without looking back.  
  
Fuck, when did he get so cocky?  
  
The teacher, a stocky woman, clapped in her hands and told everyone to take a seat. Her eyes were piercing through Andrew as she said this, so Andrew figured it wasn’t his problem Neil was here illegally and took his seat on the stage.  
  
And he tried.  
He tried not to look for the blue amidst this rainbow of pretentiousness.  
Amidst the shouty colours of people who wanted to be noticed.  
  
It was easy, really.  
  
You just searched for the one person who didn’t want to be noticed.  
  
Neil was watching Andrew intensely,  
but his pencil wasn’t moving, hovering above the paper.  
  
It was like he was searching for the right points to press down.  
For the perfect starting point.  
  
Why was he hesitating? Neil knew perfectly well how Andrew worked.  
  
Fuck this. Without paying attention to the others, Andrew raised his middle finger, staring Neil straight in the eyes.   
  
An offended gasp from somewhere in the room.   
A disgusted _tchk_ from the teacher.  
  
But Neil,  
Neil laughed.  
  
And then he started sketching,  
eyes and pencil touching every little inch of Andrew.  
  
_Fuck.  
  
_ x  
  
The bell rang  
and everywhere, pencils were dropped.  
  
Andrew jumped from the stage and started for the door.  
He didn’t need to look to know Neil had already packed his things and was following close behind.  
  
For some reason, Neil was _very_ good at quickly getting his things and going.   
  
He was also, for some reason, very good at getting underneath Andrew’s skin.  
  
For over an hour, Andrew had been touched with looks,  
with a dark blue gaze  
trailing over every inch of him.  
  
Even for Andrew that was too much,  
and as soon as they were out of the building, he rounded on Neil and slammed him against the wall.  
  
‘What was that in there?’ he spat, fingers curling into Neil’s shirt.  
  
‘Yes,’ was all Neil said, a little breathless.  
  
Fuck this.  
Andrew surged forward, pressing a searing kiss against Neil’s mouth.   
  
Immediately, Neil reached up and carded his hands through Andrew’s hair, roughly pulling him closer.  
  
The kiss turned almost frantic then. Andrew wasted no time in slipping his tongue between Neil’s parted lips.  
Judging by Neil’s groan, it was more than welcome.  
  
‘Fucking looking at me like that,’ Andrew growled, pulling back to glare at Neil.  
  
Neil just gave him a glazed, _satisfied_ look, the little shit, before leaning in and pressing hot, wet lips against Andrew’s throat.  
  
Goosebumps broke out over Andrew’s skin.   
He moaned in surprise.  
  
It felt too good.  
  
But he should- They should-   
The appointment.   
Fuck.  
  
Andrew pushed Neil back.  
  
‘We’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘Sweetwine.’  
  
The blue in Neil’s eyes was nearly gone as he looked at Andrew, fingers wound tightly into Andrew’s hair,  
but then he nodded, and slowly let go.  
  
Andrew pulled out his phone to look at the time.  
  
‘We’re late. Think you can run to the car?’  
  
A humourless laugh escaped Neil.  
  
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I can run.’  
  
x  
  
As soon as Neil’s seatbelt clicked into place, Andrew hit the gas. The car shot out of the parking spot.   
  
Heart still racing from their kiss, from the feeling of Neil’s tongue against his own, Andrew raced over the road,  
breath going just as fast as the car.   
  
Beside him, Neil was smiling.  
  
‘Thought you didn’t want to get into a car with me,’ Andrew said, not at all surprised by the roughness of his voice.  
  
‘Trust me,’ Neil said, reaching over and brushing his fingers through Andrew’s hair. It should annoy Andrew, but it just made his pulse jump. ‘That’s not why I’m smiling.’  
  
x  
  
They rushed into the center, then hurried towards the large exhibition hall.   
  
When they arrived in the main room, Sweetwine looked up from his sketchbook in surprise.  
  
‘Oh, right. Our appointment.’  
  
He gestured his arms around the empty room. ‘The stage is yours. Play around with the walls and your pieces until you find the story you want to tell.’  
  
They were the same words that had been echoing through Andrew’s mind for so long.  
  
_The story he wanted to tell._   
  
He looked at Neil, who had a determined set to his eyes as he started moving walls around, one hand holding tightly onto the folder with his art.   
  
Andrew used to think, used to _know_ , that nobody wanted to hear the story he had to tell.  
And maybe they didn’t.  
  
Or maybe,  
he’d just been too focused on the wrong story.   
  
Maybe he should tell a different one.   
  
What was peace after all?   
To not focus on the angry parts of the story.  
  
Andrew watched Neil pin copies of his art to the wall, watched him take a step back before rearranging them again.  
  
Eventually, Neil sat cross-legged down on the ground, staring up at his sketches and paintings.   
  
Before Andrew had consciously made the decision,  
he reached for his camera and crouched down.  
  
There was no sun bearing down on either of them,   
and Neil wasn’t looking at the camera.   
He also wasn’t panicking like the first time they’d been here.  
  
Andrew peered through the viewfinder, though he didn’t need to.  
  
He was already focused on Neil.   
  
_Click_ said the shutter.  
  
Neil turned to him in surprise, his bright blue eyes big. ‘Did you take a photo?’  
  
Andrew took another.  
  
Neil smiled.   
And the world was quiet.   
Peaceful.  
  
‘Why do you want to remember this moment?’ Neil asked softly.  
  
Andrew didn’t answer.  
Because he didn’t want to remember the moment.  
  
He wanted to remember Neil.  
  
x  
  
There was a different sort of silence as they walked out of the center into the night.   
  
It followed them all the way to the car,  
and when it became nearly too much,  
Neil broke it by reaching over.   
  
His fingers hovered over Andrew’s throat.  
  
Searching for the right point to press down.   
For the perfect starting point.  
  
Parts of Neil’s face were lit up by the red lights of the dashboard,  
but Andrew didn’t need to see to know what Neil was asking.  
  
He leaned forward,  
until the tip of Neil’s finger was pressed against his throat.  
  
And yet Neil asked,  
‘Is that a yes?’  
  
The world tilted as Andrew fell down,  
as he lost his breath.  
  
‘Yes,’ he growled, grabbing the back of Neil’s neck and pulling him close, trying to get his air back.  
  
For a few seconds, they shared each and every breath.   
Then Andrew’s phone buzzed.  
  
A phonecall.  
  
Andrew quickly took it out of his pocket and eyed the screen, hand never leaving the back of Neil’s neck.  
  
It was Nicky.  
  
He pressed his phone to his ears.  
  
‘Bad timing, Nicky,’ he said roughly. ‘Is someone dying?’  
  
‘Uh no? But Andrew, it’s about the exhibition-’  
  
‘Then it can wait,’ Andrew said, and hung up.  
  
‘Can it?’ Neil asked.   
  
His blue eyes were piercing through Andrew’s dark ones,  
and his warm breath was a soft whisper against Andrew’s lips.  
  
‘No,’ Andrew said. ‘This can’t wait.’  
  
Before Neil could register what Andrew had admitted,  
Andrew closed the distance between their lips.  
  
x  
  
‘Matt’s not home,’ Neil whispered between their mouths.   
  
Andrew swallowed the words.  
Had to make sense of them, because his mind was taken apart with every slide of Neil’s lips against his.  
  
He pulled back for a brief second, and glanced at the staircase in front of them.    
  
‘Think you can run?’ Neil asked in a low voice, lips brushing against Andrew’s cheek.  
  
‘We don’t have to run,’ Andrew answered after a second too long, getting distracted by the warm kisses that were creeping dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his neck.  
  
‘Thought this…’ Neil murmured, placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss just under Andrew’s jaw, ‘couldn’t wait.’  
  
Andrew stifled a groan, and used the last shreds of his restraint to push Neil back.  
  
They shared a dark look  
before they both ran up the stairs as fast as they could.   
  
Neil’s hand was already clinging to the keys, and within seconds the door was unlocked and thrown open.  
  
Breathing harshly, they simply stood inside the dark and quiet apartment for a few seconds.  
  
Then Neil let out a short laugh.  
  
Well. It had been kind of ridiculous.  
  
The corners of Andrew’s mouth turned for maybe two or three seconds.  
  
Yet Neil spotted it.   
How the fuck.  
  
Instead of smiling back, Neil moved in front of him and touched their foreheads together, eyes all softness and wanting.   
  
A heady combination.   
  
‘I want to touch you,’ Neil whispered.  
  
‘Already doing that.’  
  
‘I want to touch you more.’  
  
Greedy little shit.  
  
‘Gonna claim more than you’re allowed?’  
  
‘No,’ Neil said immediately. ‘No, I won’t take what you won’t give.’  
  
‘What if I want to give nothing?’  
  
‘Then I’ll take nothing.’  
  
Really.   
Andrew didn’t believe it.  
  
It must’ve shown, because Neil leaned back slightly to look him in the eyes.  
  
‘I don’t want sex,’ he said sincerely. ‘I want you.’  
  
He couldn’t.  
  
He shouldn’t.  
  
But he did.  
  
And even though Neil’s words were coloured holographic,  
shifting in shades depending on which angle you looked at them,  
his eyes were the same shade of blue.   
  
The blue Andrew could pick out on a colour wheel.  
  
Would it matter if he said no?   
  
Would it stop him from falling?  
  
Ironically,  
Andrew knew the answer to that question would be no.  
  
So he said, ‘Yes.’   
  
The word echoed in his mind as Neil’s mouth found his again, as Neil’s hands were carding through his hair, dragging up and down his arms  
and settling on his hips.  
  
There was so little space left between their bodies.   
Between them.  
  
Neil brushed a hand over the front of Andrew’s jeans.  
  
Needless to say, Andrew was hard.  
  
The warm touch sent warm pleasure through his body, through his legs, and Andrew figured if they were going to be falling, they’d better lie down.  
  
He grabbed Neil’s wrist  
and jerked his head towards the bedroom.  
  
Neil got the hint pretty fast.   
  
They didn’t switch on the light, but the moon shone through the window and it was enough for Andrew to see the walls of Neil’s room,  
still plastered with sketches.   
  
Most of them were now drawn over in ink.   
Made permanent.  
  
Andrew saw their kisses in more than one ink drawing,  
saw it in a painting made of splatters of red and blue,  
meeting in the middle.  
  
But permanence was now also in the burning red of the car on the beach,  
in the dark grey of a cellar?  
In bloodied paint brushes?   
  
What?   
  
Andrew opened his mouth to ask, but Neil pulled him down on the bed,  
down on top of him,  
and immediately surged up to press hot kisses against Andrew’s neck.   
  
Andrew shivered.   
It was hard to focus on the last puzzle pieces when his dick was painfully hard.  
  
Neil raised his hips, dragging them against Andrew’s tight jeans, and fuck, okay, Andrew wasn’t sure thinking was necessary.  
  
He quickly pushed Neil back against the bed,  
pushed those sinful lips away from his heartbeat that was going crazy,  
and ground down against Neil’s hard dick.   
  
Neil gasped, eyes falling shut.  
  
Holding a hand against Neil’s chest, Andrew dragged their hips together again.  
  
Neil’s mouth fell open, and his hands scrambled against the bedsheets, trying to find something to hold onto.   
  
The ledge maybe.   
  
He could’ve easily grabbed Andrew.   
But Neil didn’t reach up again,  
still capable of knowing where the boundaries lie with a raging hard-on.  
  
Good.  
  
Andrew started slowly rocking his hips  
until Neil was biting his lip so hard Andrew saw the skin break.  
  
But he didn’t want skin to break anymore.  
  
He reached out, and dragged his thumb over Neil’s bottom lip.   
  
‘Don’t.’  
  
_Don’t hold in the words anymore.  
  
_ It had been wrong to cover up Neil’s mouth in that art piece.   
  
Andrew didn’t want him to be silent.  
He wanted every breathless word.  
  
Looking at him with blown-out pupils, Neil opened his mouth slightly  
and dragged his lip over Andrew’s thumb,  
smearing the blood over his skin.  
  
Andrew leaned in  
and kissed the angry red away.  
  
Neil groaned into the kiss, hips shifting slightly. He was probably unaware he was even doing it.  
But it was starting to drive Andrew crazy.  
  
He wanted to touch.   
More.  
  
He leaned back.  
  
‘A shirt for a shirt?’ he asked, voice rough.  
  
Neon panic spiked through Neil’s eyes.  
Okay. It wasn’t necessary-  
  
‘That would be another truth,’ Neil said.  
  
‘You don’t have to,’ Andrew replied.  
  
Neil looked at Andrew,  
then shook his head shortly.  
  
‘I’ve seen you,’ he said. ‘That wasn’t nothing.’  
  
Andrew stopped trying to guess how Neil could so easily figure out what was important, and instead nodded shortly.   
  
He leaned back to give Neil some space.

Taking a deep breath, Neil sat up and pulled off his shirt.  
  
When he laid down again,  
auburn hair a soft shade against the white pillow,  
Andrew was momentarily silenced as he noticed the lean lines of Neil’s stomach,  
the slight muscle definition in his chest and shoulders.  
  
Then, he noticed the scars.   
  
Of course he noticed the scars.  
It was hard not to.  
  
Andrew pointed at Neil’s chest, finger hovering over his skin.  
  
‘That’s a bullet wound.’  
  
‘I thought Aaron was the doctor,’ Neil replied.   
  
There was no snark, but Andrew recognized the bite that self consciousness gave to words.   
  
He knew he couldn’t answer that he wanted to know Neil’s truth,  
that he wanted to hear his stories.  
All of them.  
  
So instead, he reached for his own shirt and pulled it over his head.  
  
Neil stared at him, searching Andrew’s eyes, his face, for something.  
For another reaction.  
  
Andrew stared back.  
  
After a few seconds, Neil’s eyes softened.   
  
He understood that someone whose arms could be read in the dark  
had no right to judge someone whose chest could be read by the blind.  
  
‘I’ll tell you someday,’ Neil promised.  
  
Whenever he’d be ready, Andrew would listen.  
  
‘Can I touch you?’ Andrew asked.  
  
‘Yes,’ Neil answered. ‘Everywhere.’  
  
Andrew put his palm on Neil’s chest, and slowly dragged it down.  
  
‘Where can I touch you?’ Neil asked.  
  
Andrew’s fingers brushed the top of Neil’s jeans.   
  
‘Arms. Head and neck.’  
  
‘What about t-’  
  
‘No.’  
  
Andrew wanted to.   
He _wanted_ Neil to jerk him off, put his dick in Neil’s mouth and let him-  
But he knew he couldn’t.  
  
It was frustrating.  
It was so much more frustrating than going through Eden’s backdoor and exchanging hot kisses while he jerked Roland, only to immediately move to the toilet to do it himself.  
  
Accepting Andrew’s no, Neil’s hands joined Andrew’s and they quickly undid his button and fly before pulling Neil’s pants down.   
  
Neil’s dick was straining against his boxers.   
It looked fucking hot.  
  
Bracing himself on either side of Neil, Andrew ground their hips together again.   
  
‘ _Oh,_ ’ Neil moaned, hands flying up before dropping to the bed again.  
  
Andrew’s blood boiled, and his eyes were focused intensely on Neil as he shifted his hips forward again. And again.   
  
Neil looked so beautiful, mouth falling open, eyes shut tight and hands grasping the bed sheets as he rocked in time with Andrew’s thrusts.  
  
Not enough.   
Andrew wanted _more_ .  
  
He’d called Neil a greedy little shit, but Andrew wanted more too.   
Wanted to feel Neil’s skin against his own, wanted Neil to wrap his legs around his hips and-   
Fuck it.   
  
Andrew’s hands flew to his jeans.   
  
Deep breath.  
Just like falling off the edge.   
  
He unbuttoned and unzipped,  
erased some of the lines in the sand,  
and pulled his jeans down.   
  
When he moved back, Neil was watching him, the blue in his eyes nearly swallowed by the black.   
He looked almost anxious, like he was the one taking a leap of faith, and Andrew wasn’t fucking having that.   
  
He gripped Neil’s legs and yanked him closer so their groins were flush together.   
All Andrew needed to do was lean forward to continue the delicious friction.  
  
Deep breath.  
Another one.  
  
‘You don’t have to,’ Neil said.   
  
And maybe that was what made Andrew decide to just fucking go for it.  
The fact that he didn’t _have to_ .   
  
He shifted his hips.  
  
Sensations, prickling hot and so fucking good, shot through him now that it was just the thin fabric of their boxers between them.  
  
Andrew dropped his head, breathing heavily through his nose,  
trying to keep his cool.   
  
Of course Neil decided it was okay to fucking attack him again.   
  
Neil’s lips dragged hotly over his neck,  
making Andrew moan as more pleasure coursed through his body.  
  
Neil’s hands carded through his hair, keeping him close while he continued assaulting Andrew’s neck, and Andrew couldn’t keep his hips still even if he wanted to.   
It had been-  
  
It had been never,  
since he’d felt this.  
  
Since he’d felt this close to someone,  
since he _was_ this close to someone without pushing a knife between their ribs.  
  
Instead,  
with every cant of their hips,  
with every moan whispered into his neck,  
it felt a little like a knife was pushed deeper between his ribs.   
  
Breathing was difficult,  
and his chest _hurt  
_ but it didn’t at the same time.  
  
It was awful  
and everything was intense,  
so fucking intense  
until he _had_ to see Neil come apart and he _had_ to kiss him and swallow his every moan.  
  
‘Wrap your legs around me,’ Andrew ground out with difficulty, and Neil complied. Immediately.  
  
_Fuck_ he could feel Neil’s dick against his own and wasn’t that just a fucking blessing.  
  
Andrew’s arms were shaking now.  
  
All sense of rhythm was quickly lost, and instead they just moved together, faster and harder and more more more until Neil’s hands tightened painfully into Andrew’s hair.  
  
‘ _Close_ ,’ Neil gasped.  
  
Yes, Andrew’s mind agreed hazily. _This_ was being close to someone.  
  
Andrew tilted his head to the side  
and his lips found Neil’s, tongues sliding together until Neil froze, groaning as he came between their bodies.   
  
It was what pulled Andrew over the edge too.   
Fucking Neil.   
  
And then he was left with an unknown warmth,  
a terrible pun,  
and the feeling of Neil’s heart hammering against his own.  
  
How- Oh, he’d fallen on top of Neil.  
  
He’d fallen.   
  
As soon as Andrew realized what had happened, as soon as he felt their chests breathing in sync, his skin prickled uncomfortably.

It was so unfair.  
Andrew didn’t care for moments, but he also didn’t have the _choice_ to not care for them.   
  
He simply _couldn’t_ bask in the glory of his fucking orgasm  
because he’d been fucked until there was an invisible, poisonous layer coating his body, responding only to human touch.  
  
Andrew rolled off of Neil.  
  
And then, silence.  
  
Well, not entirely.  
  
Neil was breathing heavily.  
Andrew was too.  
And his phone was buzzing again.  
  
‘I feel like I could fall asleep now,’ Neil murmured.  
  
Yeah.   
It had felt like falling. It still did.  
  
Andrew sat up, locating his pants on the ground. They held his insistently buzzing phone.  
  
‘Wait,’ Neil said.  
  
Andrew waited.  
He didn’t turn around.  
  
‘Thank you.’  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘For trusting me.’  
  
Andrew looked over his shoulder.  
  
Splayed out on the bed, chest heaving but breathing noticeably slowing down, cheeks still a lingering red,  
Neil looked so fucking beautiful that Andrew wanted to take his photo.   
Just for himself.  
  
Neil huffed a short laugh. ‘You look like you want to take a photo.’  
  
‘I do,’ Andrew said.  
  
Neil’s smile didn’t disappear this time.  
It was a soft thing.  
Andrew wondered if he could brush it away with his fingers.  
  
He reached out to try,  
but as he dragged his fingers over Neil’s lips, the smile only turned bigger.  
  
Hm.  
  
‘I’ve been painting my whole life,’ Neil whispered against Andrew’s fingers. ‘But I’ve never wanted to capture real life as much as I’d like to paint you.’  
  
‘Don’t you mean drawing?’  
  
Something strange flickered over Neil’s face,  
a colour closely related to the neon brightness of panic,  
but then it was gone.  
  
Andrew should’ve pushed.  
  
But he felt tired of pushing himself,  
so he let Neil press a kiss against his fingers before pulling them back.  
  
x  
  
He should’ve pushed,  
but instead he left Neil’s apartment early in the morning, walking straight past his own apartment.   
He had his backpack, which was all he needed for the day.   
  
Andrew was just driving out the parking garage and towards the university when he realised that actually, no, his backpack wasn’t enough. The exhibition was tonight. He’d need to change.   
  
Cars speeding by, Andrew debated about turning back.   
  
But maybe.   
Maybe he could _not_ turn back for once.   
  
In hindsight,  
he really should have.  
  
x  
  
The morning air was crisp, and a shockingly bright blue.  
  
His mind showed him the image of Neil’s eyes,  
staring at Andrew like he was the answer.   
Like he was the inspiration an art-blocked artist so desperately needed.   
  
Andrew raised his middle finger to the sky.  
  
It didn’t ease the feeling in his chest.   
  
x   
  
But the sight of cops everywhere did.  
  
As Andrew left his second class and walked towards the cafeteria, he was greeted by the unwelcome sign of cops lurking everywhere, whispering into their walkietalkies.   
  
An itch.   
Somewhere deep inside Andrew.   
  
He shook it off,  
and pushed open the cafeteria door.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time; Where was Neil?
> 
> Cliffhanger? What do you mean, I don't know her
> 
> Thank you for reading <3 !! Let me know what you thought, if you want :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo lovely people!
> 
> The final chapter! It is here. Also, I'm sorry for not responding to all the comments yet, but I really didn't want to make you wait this long after that cliffhanger.
> 
> Also what's up with those caramel m&ms i am not a fan
> 
> Enjoy!

Something was off.   
  
Sitting down on their usual picnic table, Andrew stared at the burger he’d bought for dinner.   
  
But what?  
  
Was it the fact that he’d accepted  
something?  
That it was no longer a nothing?   
  
Fuck, Andrew hated how his mind went straight to Neil.  
  
Logically, it made sense.   
  
When you were falling,  
you wouldn’t be thinking about anything else.  
You’d focus on the here and now,  
on the strange weightlessness,  
on the thrill and fear and unexpected joy.   
  
His eyes drifted to the empty seat in front of him when it hit him.   
  
A cold feeling spread through his body.  
  
Where was Neil?  
  
x  
  
He’d skipped school today, Andrew reasoned, as he walked towards his car.  
  
After everything that happened yesterday, Neil had probably slept in and decided to say fuck it.  
  
But the doubts crept in when Andrew parked in front of the apartment building.  
  
Taking the stairs two at a time, he cast a dark look at Neil’s door  
before opening his own.  
  
Nobody was home.  
Quieter that way.    
  
Andrew quickly pulled on a suitable outfit for the exhibition.    
  
He forced himself to walk,  
_ to just fucking walk _ ,  
to his car.   
  
Neil would be waiting at the exhibition.   
  
Andrew hadn’t miscalculated.   
He hadn’t misunderstood the determination and desperation on Neil’s face.   
His hunger for permanence.  
  
_ But the cops. _   
  
Andrew slammed the car door shut,  
and raced towards the center.  
  
x  
  
He was early.   
Way too early.  
  
That was okay.   
  
Andrew could wait.   
  
He entered the hall with the grey floor and colourful ceiling, and forced himself to take a deep breath.  
  
It did little to keep the anger at bay.  
But it wasn’t boiling over.   
Not yet.  
  
‘Andrew?’  
  
Sweetwine himself had just exited a room to the left, blinking a few times when he spotted Andrew.  
  
‘Is Neil here?’ Andrew asked flatly.  
  
‘Uh, no, not that I know of,’ Sweetwine answered. ‘Have you come to double check our work?’  
  
No, he hadn’t.  
  
‘I’ll wait outside,’ Andrew said shortly, and turned around.  
  
x   
  
The sky changed from the bright blue  
to a warm orange, the shade of Neil’s hair in the sun,  
to a darkness that Andrew knew too well.  
  
Meanwhile, the parking lot started filling up with more cars.    
People that were perfectly on time.  
  
Yeah.  
  
It was to be expected.   
  
Andrew slid down against his car,  
until his knees were bent and his ass was on the cold ground.  
  
He needed a cigarette.   
  
Digging his hand into his jacket, he pulled one out.  
  
The flame burned brightly in the dark,  
for a useless fucking second,  
before it went away.  
  
Andrew inhaled the smoke  
and relished in the burning.  
  
The parking lot was almost full now,  
and Andrew watched detachedly as people started parking their cars on the side of the road. Anywhere they could fit.  
  
He’d been stupid again, hadn’t he?  
  
He’d expected jumping off a fucking roof  
would be a good thing.  
  
He could’ve asked  _ anyone _ .   
They all would’ve said the same.  
  
“Jumping off a roof leads to your death.  
Counts as fucking suicide.”   
  
In other words,  
don’t.  
  
Fuck it hurt.  
  
With shaking hands, Andrew pulled out another cigarette.   
Watched the flame die before his eyes, and then inhaled the remains of the fire deep into his lungs.    
Inhaled the grey  
until it was all he could feel.  
  
The colours had been a nice reprieve,  
but they just distracted from the bleak colours of the real world.  
  
They covered up what people didn’t want to see,  
didn’t want to know.  
  
Namely, that love was fucking fake.    
A lie you told others to make yourself feel better.    
  
Love was selfish,  
even more so than peace.  
  
It was like paintings.   
You wanted so badly to believe it was the truth, you wanted so badly to  _ understand _ ,  
but it was just a fake.    
An imitation.  
  
The real world didn’t look like a painting,  
no matter how hard people like Kevin tried.  
  
The real world didn’t allow people like Andrew to have  _ something _ ,  
no matter how hard he’d fought for it.   
How hard he  _ wanted _ .   
  
Andrew  _ wanted _ to strangle himself for that alone.  
  
But he figured the tightness in his throat would do the trick.  
  
Well, at least he was done. Done with photographing falling.   
  
He knew he would never forget this feeling.  
  
Someone was running.  
Shouting too.   
  
That someone turned into Nicky.  
  
‘ _ Andrew! _ ’ Nicky yelled, ‘Andrew what the fuck are you doing down there?!’  
  
Andrew was not in the mood for this.  
He stared past Nicky at the dark sky.  
  
‘Come on, Andrew, we don’t have  _ time _ for this, not when Neil’s in jail!’  
  
It was unexpected enough to make Andrew focus on Nicky.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘What do you mean  _ what _ ? Haven’t you seen the cops? Fuck, Andrew, I was calling you all day, why didn’t you pick up?’  
  
Phone.   
His phone, lying on Neil’s bedroom floor.   
  
Andrew slowly moved to his feet.  
  
‘What happened?’  
  
‘I don’t know, some- some  _ guy _ was pointing at Neil, and then the cops were taking him away and I didn’t know why, but the guy was exclaiming something about a forgery- Andrew, do you know anything about that?’  
  
‘Was he blonde?’  
  
‘I guess? I don’t know? Why does that matter? We need to get Neil out of jail!’  
  
The fuckface from a week before.  
The one who was giving Neil shit about his art.  
  
And now he’d turned Neil in.   
For forgery?  
  
But you forged paintings,  
and Neil didn’t-  
  
‘ _ I’ve been painting my whole life.’  
  
_ _ ‘Don’t you mean drawing?’ _   
  
No.   
No, Neil had meant painting.   
  
Neil had  _ lied. _   
But it also meant he hadn’t run away.   
  
The change of perspective wasn’t enough to change Andrew’s mind,  
but it was enough to make him turn on his heel and get in the car.  
  
x  
  
‘I asked if you got any proof,’ Andrew threatened, getting up into the receptionist’s face.  
  
‘I-I told you I don’t know-’  
  
‘Then get me someone who knows.’  
  
‘Andrew,’ Nicky tried for the third time. ‘Maybe let her go? I don’t think it’s going to help-’  
  
But it did.    
Because he was causing enough of a scene for a police officer to come looking.  
  
Andrew immediately released the receptionist’s blouse and took a few steps back.  
  
‘What the fuck’s happening?’ the officer spat.  
  
‘You tell me,’ Andrew shrugged. ‘Why is Neil Josten locked up, and why can’t I pay his bail?’  
  
‘Because Neil Josten doesn’t exist.’  
  
The ground fell away underneath Andrew’s feet.   
  
Every truth he’d believed.  
Spoken by a lie after all.  
  
Andrew wanted to walk out of the police station.    
Let them try to lock up a lie.    
Let them try to catch a flame after it had burned out.   
  
But then he saw the pitying look the officer gave him.    
  
Andrew’s blood boiled.  
  
‘I want to see him,’ he said.  
  
‘Sure,’ the police officer said. ‘But there needs to be an officer present-’  
  
‘No.’  
  
The officer sighed. ‘Nathaniel Wesninski is considered to be too dangerous.’  


x  
  
Neil was wearing the dark jeans Andrew had bought him.  
  
It was a fucking stupid thing to notice,  
but Andrew still noticed the attempt at cleaning up. The attempt at looking good for the exhibition.  
  
It meant Neil’d had every intention of going, and that- Did it make a difference?  
  
Maybe.  
  
‘Neil Josten,’ Andrew said, and Neil stumbled to the bars in shock. How dare _he_ be fucking shocked. ‘Or should I say Nathaniel Wesninski?’  
  
‘Andrew-’ Neil started, then stopped.  
  
Andrew crossed his arms as he watched Neil’s eyes flicker through an array of emotions.   
  
When the silence became uncomfortable, the police officer nearby shuffled his feet awkwardly.  
  
‘Waiting, Nathaniel,’ Andrew said boredly. ‘Waiting for that answer. Any minute now, there’s going to be a good explanation.’  
  
Neil’s hollow eyes darted towards the officer, just a quick look, but it was enough for Andrew to know he wouldn’t get the truth  
just yet.  
  
‘Don’t call me that,’ Neil said quietly. ‘I’ve never liked being him.’  
  
‘And I’ve never liked liars. Yet here we are.’  
  
The pain that crossed over Niel’s face meant he remembered those words too.  
_Yet here we are._  
Andrew had used them then to agree that Neil was interesting enough to keep around.  
  
Big fucking mistake.  
  
‘I tried to- I’ll tell you what I can,’ Neil said, eyes flickering to the police officer again.  
  
Fingers tapping against the knives underneath his armbands, Andrew quickly seized the police officer up. He could knock him out. But it would be messy.  
  
‘My father,’ Neil started. Ah, the daddy issues. ‘He’s in the art industry. The illegal one.’  
  
The accusation of forgery.   
Made sense.  
  
‘Him and his men, almost his entire ring I think, finally got busted three years ago. He’s in prison, but-’ Neil took a shaky breath. ‘He’s still looking for who’s responsible.’  
  
Explained the daddy issues and the fear of using his own name. His own cards.  
  
The sketches Andrew had seen in Neil’s room flickered through his mind.  
A dark cellar.   
Bloodied paintbrushes.  
  
‘Did he beat you?’ Andrew asked.  
  
Neil nodded shortly.  
  
‘When-’ Again Neil stopped, censored himself most likely, before carefully continuing, ‘When I didn’t obey. When he felt like it.’  
  
The bloodied paintbrushes. Neil’s blood. But why was it _on_ paintbrushes? They didn’t make for good weapons.  
  
The forgery. Illegal art business.   
And,  
_“I’ve been painting my whole life.”_ _  
_  
Had Neil forged paintings for his father?  
  
That left only one thing unanswered.  
The burning car.  
  
‘How did you end up here?’ Andrew asked.  
  
‘My mother,’ Neil said, voice rougher than before. ‘She tried to get us away.’  
  
Tried.  
  
Well then.  
Andrew wouldn’t have expected Nathaniel to make a better decision than follow orders. Than try to escape the abuse.  
  
Even though you knew,  
_some part of you knew it wouldn’t stop even if you obeyed_ ,  
you still tried.  
  
Same ink and all that bullshit.  
  
Well. Looked like it was now Andrew’s turn to get Neil away.   
Let Nathaniel rot in the cell with all his lies and forged paintings.  
  
Neil would get to walk out of this,  
would get to walk through the art pieces he’d made.   
  
‘Okay,’ Andrew said shortly.  
  
Neil’s blue eyes stared at him.  
  
He didn’t look scared.  
Of course not.  
  
He looked almost daring,  
like he was daring Andrew to walk away from this,  
daring him to resort back to the anger  
because anger was so fucking _easy_.   
  
Peace was hard.  
And complicated, and selfish, and bla bla bla.   
  
Andrew didn’t know if he would ever get peace.   
If Neil would either, for that matter.  
  
But he’d seen a part of it,  
a soft filter coating that afternoon where Neil had watched their art, had searched for the story he wanted to tell others.  
  
Andrew wasn’t going to lose that.  
  
He’d already used the same filter for too fucking long.  
  
‘I’m done here,’ Andrew said to the officer standing guard. ‘And so is _Neil_.’  
  
x  
  
‘Even so,’ Nicky said. ‘He deserves a fair trial like everyone else. You can’t keep him in here because he was forced to participate in illegal activities because of his father. He was a _minor_ back then. That’s bound to count for something.’  
  
‘We don’t know if he’s stopped-’  
  
‘You can arrest him when you _do_ know,’ Andrew said.  
  
Nicky shot him a nervous look, but fuck it.  
  
‘What Andrew is trying to say,’ Nicky amended, ‘is that you can’t keep him here because he _might or might not_ have committed another crime in the past few years. You locked up his father with his entire biz. There’s no evidence proving that Neil continued the practice. He wasn’t even anywhere near his father when you arrested him.’  
  
‘Does he have an alibi for that?’  
  
Nicky turned to Andrew, but Andrew also didn’t know. He shrugged.  
  
‘You’d have to ask Neil. But like, right now, you have nothing more than just _claims_ from a jealous student.’  
  
The police officer looked uncomfortable.   
But he also started looking unsure, and that was all Andrew needed to walk forward and whisper under his breath, ‘This will turn into a big case if Nathaniel’s name comes out. Do you have enough evidence to back your claims?’  
  
‘Fuck this,’ the police officer muttered. He took a step back and threw up his hands. ‘Take him.’  
  
x  
  
Neil walked towards them in his fancy jeans. Still ready for the exhibition.   
  
‘Hi Nei- Uh. Nathaniel,’ Nicky tried.  
  
‘Neil,’ Andrew correct him sharply.  
  
‘Right.’ Nicky coughed. ‘Neil.’  
  
For a second, Neil’s face was falling apart,  
was breaking along all the cracks.  
  
He caught himself before he could fully break down however.  
  
And then there was only determination and impatience in Neil’s eyes as he said, ‘What are we waiting for? We’re already late.’  
  
It was a toss up whether Andrew wanted to laugh  
or smash Neil’s face in.  
  
x  
  
Turned out he didn’t have to.  
  
As soon as they entered the exhibition hall, the sight of dozens of people looking at their art  
punched the air out of Neil’s lungs.  
  
Andrew saw.  
Saw, and told Nicky, ‘Get him something to drink.’  
  
Nicky nodded and immediately left.  


And then they were quietly standing together,  
though Neil was anything  _ but  
_ together.   
  
He was barely hanging onto the thin outline that made him up.   
  
So that’s where Andrew guided Neil.    
  
The statue.    
The outline of a person,  
with Neil sitting in the middle.  


‘Sorry,’ Neil said in a choked off voice.  
  
Andrew didn’t respond.    
He turned around to watch the wall opposite that very first picture.  
  
There, pressed into the paper with hesitant pencil strokes  
was Andrew, crouching down, camera partly in front of his face.  


If they moved out of the way,  
the two art pieces would be looking at each other.  
  
Neil would look at the camera,  
and Andrew would take a photo of Neil.  
  
Back then, Andrew had asked Neil to leave.  
Because he was _in_ the shot.  
Oh, the irony.  
  
Beside him, Neil opened and closed his mouth a few times.  
Wanting to say something.  
  
‘Are you done?’ Andrew asked before Neil could say something stupid.  
  
Silence.   
Or as close to silence as it could with dozens of people in the room.  
  
‘Yes,’ Neil said quietly. ‘I’m done lying.’  
  
‘What about art?’  
  
Instead of waiting for the answer, Andrew moved to the next wall.  
  
It held Neil, staring at the camera.  
Made during the first exhibition, where Neil had disappeared right after Andrew had taken the photo with his phone.  
  
‘I’m not done with art either,’ Neil said eventually.  
  
‘Good.’  
  
They looked at their art in silence.   
Art they’d actually lived.  
  
‘You know,’ Neil started slowly, when they stopped in front of the photo of him partly hidden by cigarette smoke.  
  
Hidden by smoke Andrew had blown at him.  
Because Andrew hadn’t been sure if he wanted to know all of Neil or not.  
  
‘You never told me why you titled the first picture _falling_.’  
  
Andrew gave Neil a look, which Neil answered with a daring stare.  
As per usual.  
  
‘You’re not that stupid,’ Andrew said flatly.  
  
‘You told me you were afraid of heights, afraid of falling,’ Neil mused, as they walked to the next art piece. ‘Are you afraid of me?’  
  
The thought should be ridiculous.  
But it wasn’t.  
Not really.  
  
Because it showed in every art piece.  
How afraid Andrew had been of this.  
  
‘Not anymore,’ he replied.  
  
Quietly, Neil’s hand brushed against the back of Andrew’s hand.  
Not enough of a touch to warrant permission. But enough to make it feel like— to make Andrew feel.  
  
Nicky hurried towards them then.   
  
‘Oh my _gosh_! Aaron is here!’  
  
‘What,’ Andrew said, annoyed. ‘Where did he get the money for a plane ticket?’  
  
Aaron appeared from behind Nicky, giving the answer himself.  
  
‘Kevin paid them,’ he said. ‘Said I should see your art exhibition.’  
  
It was like he’d been summoned,  
because Kevin was walking towards them, carrying his notebook.  
  
‘Oh no,’ Nicky moaned. ‘This is going on your blog?’  
  
Kevin stared at him. ‘Of course. That’s what I do.’  
  
‘What? Complaining?’  
  
‘While I wouldn’t have chosen this lay-out,’ Kevin said, ignoring Nicky. ‘I can see a lot of thought went into the pieces.’  
  
It was almost a compliment.  
Almost a monumental moment in the history of Kevin Day, until.  
  
‘Still… Neil, your painting skills are sloppy at best.’  
  
‘Oh my god,’ Nicky whispered. ‘He doesn’t know.’  
  
‘It’s meant to be sloppy,’ Neil said. ‘I’m done with replicating. Let me know when you’re ready to make your own art. I’ll gladly tutor you.’  
  
Though Neil was nowhere near forgiven,  
even Andrew couldn’t help the twitch of his mouth.  
  
x  
  
When everyone was gone,  
when the exhibition hall was just a room filled with pictures and paintings,  
Andrew and Neil stayed.  
  
‘I want to see it one more time,’ Neil said. ‘Before it’s gone.’  
  
‘It’s not gone,’ Andrew answered.  
  
‘But we’re not going to see it like this again.’  
  
‘You want an exhibition every time you draw? Going to give Kevin a run for his ego?’   
  
Neil smiled. ‘No, but…’ He fell silent, and his smile disappeared. ‘Thank you. For letting me see this.’  
  
Instead of answering, Andrew held out his hand.  
  
When Neil took it, Andrew realized he’d never held hands with someone.  
Willingly.  
  
It was nothing special.   
Just hands.  
  
Just hands that made art.  
  
Gently, he pulled Neil forward.  
Right back to the start,  
so they could see it one more time.  
  
It was so obvious now, when you saw all the pieces together.  
  
Their art was them discovering each other,  
and through each other,  
themselves.   
  
Their art was a story of them seeing every single part,  
every single pixel or brush stroke  
or shade of blue and red and purple.  
  
It wasn’t a story of falling.  
  
Or maybe it was.   
Maybe part of it was.   
  
Maybe you needed to fall over the edge,   
fling yourself into the unknown  
to get to the known.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As The Greatest Showman said, "Comfort is the enemy of progress". 
> 
> WHEW.  
> It's done. This has turned into so, so much more than I ever expected it would. And I'm so grateful for all of you, supporting me every step of the way with nice comments, and great assignment ideas! You're the best, truly ♡
> 
> Also a huuuuge thank you to my beta, [ClockworkDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkDragon), who had to deal with quite a lot hihi :) ♡ 
> 
> If you want to know more about my writing etc, you can follow me on either tumblr (idnis.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@idnis9). Since I plan on self-publishing my book this year (!!), I made a [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/idnis). It would mean the world to me, if you'd consider supporting me!  
> (sorry for the little self promo there) 
> 
> All that's left to say now is: thank you SO much for reading! And let me know what you thought, if you want :)


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